The Resurrection Effect
by Fastern
Summary: TFA / In the aftermath of Longarm's betrayal, Cliffjumper finds himself on trial for crimes he did not commit. But a dramatic bid for freedom may give him the chance he needs to prove his innocence. He must find and revive Blurr.
1. The Painful Reality

**A/N: ***comes in on hands and knees* GASP! I rewrote this.

Seriously, I cut out about 20,000 words of unnecessary material. I cut out ten unnecessary characters. (Probably more.) I changed whole sequences! While the general plot remains the same...it's also very different. I suggest you reread the whole fricken' thing. Leave a review, if you want. Oh yes, and beat me up if you see any grammar/spelling errors. If I have any of those "then, than" mix-ups still in here, I am going to DIE.

Uh...yeah. For those who haven't even heard of this story before, "The Resurrection Effect" was the first chaptered story I published for this site. I initially conceived the idea in my brief snippet, "Guilt", and became so attached to the idea, I felt that I had to expand on it. It's one of my biggest successes, and biggest failures. But hopefully this rewrite cleared up a few things that were inconsistent in the former version, as I plan to write a sequel by the name of "The Last Autobot."

Long author's note. I suppose I should get on with it.

I do not own "Transformers Animated," not that I want to, because they're doing just fine without me messing things up.

* * *

**Chapter One  
****The Painful Reality**

It was by instinct that Cliffjumper rose to his feet when Longarm exited his office, a matter of respect as he saluted him. But even as he did so, he knew something was off. Their heroic head of Cybertron Intelligence remained silent, his Autobot blue eyes shifting to the door and back to his personal assistant.

'Agent Cliffjumper, I need to report some vital information to...' he paused, 'Ultra Magnus. Hold my calls...'

'Yes, sir.'

'Good,' Longarm made it to the door. 'Oh, and don't enter my office.'

'Uh, yes, Longarm Prime, sir!'

Once alone, the atmosphere seemed unnaturally eerie. Eerie, as in, the kind of atmosphere most Decepticons left behind. (Cliffjumper scowled at the thought.) He gazed at the door leading to his chief's office. Something – he wasn't sure what – didn't feel right, and it wasn't just the comment about "no entry permitted" that spooked him. All this megacycle and last, Longarm had been tense, jumpy, and hadn't given Cliffjumper any hardcore work. As a matter of fact, Cliffjumper was beginning to feel like there wasn't much for him to do.

Cliffjumper liked to think he was on good terms with Longarm. Working in close contact with the head of Intel did that to you. He really admired the guy. Though a part of him still craved the freedom of field agents, Longarm made him _like_ his job. It was a lifestyle he'd so comfortably adjusted to. The more work Cliffjumper had, the less he thought about what could've been. His boss was aware of this, and had taken to piling it on. It was mutual respect, believe it or not. An adequate balance of work and personal life. Here, he wasn't Cliffjumper, the Autobot who hadn't quite made it. He was Cliffjumper, Longarm's personal assistant, who was making some use of himself in Cybertron Intelligence.

He shouldn't worry. Whatever was bothering Longarm would probably pass over in a few days. Perhaps there was too much slagging paperwork.

Life was good.

Well, it was.

'Frag!' Cliffjumper swore. His computer suddenly fuzzed up and died out altogether. So much for drafting those reports. Now he'd have to...

Cliffjumper stopped in mid-thought. The lights flickered. He vaguely wondered what those idiots in maintenance were doing _now_. But at the same time, the sickening sensation of insecurity and tension became stronger.

He stood. The lights went out altogether. Cliffjumper swore – very loudly – as he hit his knee against his desk.

While he was still nursing the injury, the lights gradually came back on. He glanced out the window. The neighbouring buildings were darkened, like a shadow suddenly covered the city. Nanoclicks later, their twinkling golden lights turned back on.

Okay. _Now_ he was going to go shoot somebody.

And, as if reading his mind, karma brought it to him. His computer having rebooted itself, the screen displayed "incoming message." Eager to distract himself from the unease surrounding recent events, he answered.

'Longarm Prime's office – oh, what do you want?' Cliffjumper demanded.

The face of Rodimus Prime contorted with suppressed anger. 'Knock it off, Cliffjumper. We've got a major problem.'

'You bet we do! First of all,' he raised a finger, 'I'm _working_, and _you're_ blocking any important messages that could be coming through! Secondly, I got a whole bunch of paperwork that needs to be signed, and my boss is too busy to pay attention to any of it! Last, SOMEBODY'S SCREWING WITH THE LIGHTS! Do I look like I'm in the mood to listen to your "major problem?"'

Rodimus blinked.

Panting, Cliffjumper cleared his throat and recomposed himself. '...You're supposed to be in recovery, by the way.'

'I _am_, that's where I'm calling from,' Rodimus said. 'We just received word from Sentinel Prime on Earth –'

'May I remind you that all communication with Earth is supposed to go through the head of Intel, first.'

'That's what I'm trying to say!' Rodimus exclaimed. 'Longarm's a Decepticon spy! There's solid evidence and _eyewitness_ accounts from the 'bots on Earth! Not to –'

Cliffjumper slammed his fist on the desk. 'LIES! I dare you to come over here and say that _to my faceplate_!'

They glowered at each other.

Rodimus rubbed his optics. 'Sentinel Prime has recovered evidence and eyewitness accounts from Optimus and his crew. I don't like it either. But even if it's a big mistake, we need to check this out. Where's Longarm?'

'I don't report to 'bots who aren't in the Elite Guard! _Especially_ ones who spend all their slagging time on an asteroid, instead of doing important things LIKE THE REST OF US!'

'Not this conversation again, Cliffjumper. Please, where's Longarm? Or do I have to send Ironhide and Brawn over?'

'That's...that's classified!'

'Where's...Longarm?'

He hesitated. Several scenarios of slaughtering Rodimus Prime played with his imagination, but Cliffjumper forcefully pushed them back. (For now.) Much as he hated to admit it, Rodimus was a Prime – technically his superior. Grumbling, he slapped his faceplate.

'He's not here, you glitchhead! He had to report to Ultra Magnus!'

Rodimus nodded to someone standing off-camera. 'We need to act quick and I don't have any time for your attitude! I need you to search Longarm's office for evidence. Stop looking at me like that, Agent Cliffjumper. This is a very serious situation. I'll be sending over a team to assist you.'

'WHAT? I don't need _any_ assistance, and Longarm Prime hasn't done a slagging thing!'

'It's protocol! You, of all 'bots, should know the rules! Now search the office and in a few megacycles, my team will...' Rodimus turned to stare at something – or someone – that evidentially terrified him. 'I have to go. You have your orders. Rodimus Prime out.'

The screen went blank. Cliffjumper resisted the temptation to shoot the slagging thing away.

How dare they even consider this! What did Sentinel know? Friends they were, but Cliffjumper was smart enough to recognize that the mech's arrogance usually got the better of him. If there was a traitor in the building, Cliffjumper would know about it. And it _most definitely_ was not Longarm Prime.

Rodimus sure was going to look stupid after this. Cliffjumper grinned at the thought. Perhaps a demotion was in order. Perhaps he'd be able to attend the court martial.

Traitor? No way...they were thinking of Wasp.

He gazed absently at Longarm's office. An order was an order. Yet Rodimus wasn't in the Elite Guard, so did it even count? Why was he barking out directions to guys lowly repair 'bots didn't interact with? Rodimus had already chosen his own destiny, and that destiny didn't involve Decepticon spies, let alone interfering in official Cybertron Intelligence business. He could be stirring up trouble for the heck of it!

'No fragging way,' Cliffjumper muttered.

But even as he said this, he was standing before the entrance. He convinced himself that he wasn't doing this because Rodimus said so. It was to prove Longarm was loyal. The greatest head of Intel they'd ever had.

Who knows? Maybe Longarm would be so grateful, he'd get a promotion.

The lights automatically flicked on when he entered.

Everything appeared to be normal. The computer, mounted on the desk, flashed the log-in screen hopefully. Some random shelves and drawers. The layout of the building overlooked the city just outside the Metroplex. Photographs were in their place, as were datapads, your casual reminder...the general clutter of an office. Everything was normal.

Cliffjumper rounded Longarm's desk for a better perspective. What it must be like to sit here and have power over all the Intel agents. This is where he – Cliffjumper – could be sitting. Once Longarm retired, of course.

Cliffjumper Prime. Had a nice sound. He wouldn't need to take orders from Rodimus.

He sighed and examined the desk space. For the head of Intel, he wasn't very neat. Datapads were strewn every which way, many piling up to a considerable height. Maybe this paperwork was the source of stress Longarm had been experiencing lately. _Cliffjumper_ sure felt pressured whenever a large amount of office work was laid on him. Only it was worse for Longarm because he was so busy, even without all this stuff.

Years of working as a secretary had caused Cliffjumper to adopt strong organizational and sanitary habits. He began to arrange the datapads according to priority. Simple task he'd done before. But if he hadn't done this, he wouldn't have noticed the remote buried deep underneath.

Cliffjumper paused and gazed at the device. He picked it up and stared, mouth slightly open in a wave of sudden confusion. It didn't appear to operate anything. There was no high-tech communications system and the computer didn't require one.

Well...seeing as he was _supposed_ to be investigating.

He pressed the largest button there was.

Suddenly, the entire desk was swallowed by the floor. He jumped back as it spat out a glass case. The guns on display were about half the size of his body, sleek, and...very intimidating. Cliffjumper recognized the designs at once.

Battle weapons.

Militaristic.

Decepticon. The enemy's crest was branded quite visibly on the side of each machine. It was a haunting reminder of what they had been constructed for, to destroy the Autobot scum.

Cliffjumper began to feel a tinge of alarm. No, no, there had to be a _perfectly_ good explanation as to why Decepticon weapons were stored in the floor of his boss's office. He clicked another button. This time, blinds lowered over the windows. The open door slammed shut. All of the lights were cut, and for a minute there was nothing but the eerie silence. A florescent purple glow reflected off his armour.

In the darkness, an array of weapons had revealed themselves. Most were guns, others energy swords, and a titanic bazooka was mounted over the door. Cliffjumper couldn't react. His optics lingered on each deadly weapon of mass destruction, personally _familiar_ with the styles and designations. Reports passing underneath him had explained the use of these tools in painful detail. The insignias of their enemies glared down at the meek red Autobot.

And every single slagging thing was hidden in the office of Longarm Prime. Their Longarm! Their friend, comrade...The Decepticon tattoos were unmistakable, and for the first time Cliffjumper felt mildly inclined to believe Rodimus's far-fetched claims.

Longarm had just gone to see Ultra Magnus.

He could only think of two reasonable words. 'Uh oh.'


	2. Cone of Silence

**Chapter Two  
****Cone of Silence**

Another day, another pile of paperwork.

Cliffjumper hated traitors, not just because they completely dishonoured the Autobot cause, but because they created more paperwork. The Cybertron Intelligence office was already a mess. Steel boxes were chalked full of an assortment of objects; profiles, datapads, photographs, diagrams, and anything else imaginable. They lined the walls, they blocked the windows, they framed the desk and neared the ceiling.

This was the mess Cliffjumper had been greeted with just about every morning for the past who-knows-how-many solar cycles. And his set task? To get rid of it. It wasn't as easy as it sounded. Interruption upon interruption came mainly from Cybertron Command, where the council was running things until Sentinel got back to Cybertron. If they just started thinking _reasonably_, he wouldn't be stuck in the middle of this chaos.

On the desk, a datapad clearly displayed a list of various tasks to complete. Organize reports. Handle all incoming messages to Cybertron Intelligence. Erase all evidence of "Longarm Prime." Throw any file _mentioning_ him into the incinerator...

Cliffjumper hit his head against the roof of his desk as he mentally ran through this list. He glanced towards the incinerator.

His inner Sentinel Prime shouted "get back to work."

He didn't get the chance to abide by this. There was a faint ringing in his ears. At first he thought it was another daydream that had come back to haunt him upon recalling the events that had led up to this moment. Then, as he snapped back to reality, he realized that it was the computer announcing that there was an incoming transmission. To his dismay, the computer also happened to be buried. Datapads flew into the air as Cliffjumper dived for the area where he roughly recalled leaving it. He overturned a few boxes before managing to tap the response button.

However, his arms were still filled with boxes and various datapads.

'What?' he shouted.

'_Excuse_ me?'

_Slag._ 'Uh, sorry. Cybertron Intelligence, Cliffjumper speaking. Now what'dya want?'

'Alpha Trion, Cliffjumper.'

'SLAG!' Cliffjumper dropped all the boxes and dropped down to grab them. _What am I doing?_ He sprang back up, faced the screen, and saluted the face of Alpha Trion. 'Sir! I'm sorry, sir, I've been –'

'Overwhelmed?' Alpha Trion finished, glaring at him with cold optics.

'Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, sir.'

'Do not even begin to flatter yourself,' drawled Alpha Trion.

Another face appeared on the screen, next to Alpha Trion's. It was Perceptor. 'Judging by your apparent surprise, I assume that you did not remember the conference?'

'Conference?'

'With Sentinel Prime...?'

Cliffjumper blinked, then snapped his fingers. 'I _knew_ I forgot about something...'

'If you would rather sit out, that can certainly be arranged,' said Alpha Trion.

'No, no, I'm fine,' Cliffjumper kicked a few boxes out of the way to find his chair. He scooted up to the monitor. 'Ready.'

While Alpha Trion glared, he didn't seem interested in rebuking Cliffjumper further.

The call was made. Cliffjumper tried not to fidget too much. How the slag could he have forgotten about this? Alpha Trion had just reminded him yesterday!...Yet this could serve as an excuse to take the day off...Nah, if he took the day off, he'd just go back to thinking about Long – _Shockwave_! His name was Shockwave! (Slagging traitor.)

A few nanoclicks later, the dreaded chin of Sentinel appeared on the monitor, alongside Alpha Trion and Perceptor.

'Greetings, Sentinel Prime,' said Perceptor. 'We are contacting you because the council has decided to break the news of the attack on Ultra Magnus to all of Cybertron.'

'Bad idea, Perceptor, just, uh...keep it quiet until I get back there and take control,' Sentinel said.

'These are decisions that must be made by the entire council,' pointed out Perceptor.

'And your "taking control" is _especially_ premature, since Ultra Magnus is still online,' added Alpha Trion, 'albeit, on spark support.'

'With all due respect, Alpha Trion, the, uh, council should concern itself with more important matters, like beefing up security for the Decepticon prisoners that...' he cleared his throat, '_I_ captured.

Cliffjumper sneered. Looks like some things never changed. 'I thought that was Prowl.'

'_Not to mention_ Shockwave is still at large and running around with Ultra Magnus's hammer!' continued Sentinel.

_Don't remind me_, Cliffjumper thought.

'What exactly is the council doing about that?'

'Tread carefully, Sentinel Prime!' Alpha Trion advised. 'The Autobots will not take kindly to your mussling in on the council.'

With that, the transmission ended. Cliffjumper breathed a sigh of relief.

'And as for you, Cliffjumper,' said Alpha Trion. 'If you wish to be elected to head of Cybertron Intelligence, I suggest you choose your words more wisely.'

'Yes, sir! Understood, sir!'

'And...cut down on the formalities. It's very annoying.'

The screen went blank. Cliffjumper heaved a huge sigh of relief and collapsed into his chair, not realizing that he'd jumped to his feet again after Alpha Trion had addressed him.

He stared at the ceiling. It was good to stare at something that was totally vacant of any personality or monstrous chins. He'd suffered through traitors, paperwork, and now _Sentinel Prime_. When he became head of Intel and got his own secretary, then_ he_ could get some rest and relaxation. Wait, that was worse! Then he'd start thinking about the traitor. (Curse Shockwave.) On the other servo, he'd have an excuse to yell at 'bots...Well, that was one upside.

Once more, his inner Sentinel Prime took the podium and whacked him on the head. "Get back to work."

'I'm getting on it, jerk aft,' muttered Cliffjumper.

'That sort of language is not office appropriate.'

He paused and hoped that that voice existed only in his imagination.

Cliffjumper roughly pushed aside the various debris blocking his view. He came face-to-face with a mech, two times his height, brown armour, and a black visor muffling his prominent yellow optics. The stranger glared down at him with a cold expression. Cliffjumper drew himself up to his full height, checking the faction symbol displayed proudly on his chest. Autobot.

Whoever this guy was, he hated him already.

'Who the slag are you?'

'My name is Stance; I work with Cybertron Command,' said the Autobot. 'I presume you're Agent Cliffjumper?'

'Yeah, now SLAG OFF!' Cliffjumper barked. 'In case you didn't get the memo, I'm a little busy at the moment. I don't need another report!...What are you writing down?'

'Oh, this, that, you know. Have you gotten to the profiles, yet?'

Cliffjumper gestured to the stack of datapads balancing on his desk.

'I see,' Stance wrote down something else. 'Are you awa – '

'Do you _need_ something?' Cliffjumper demanded. He pulled out one of the drawers, overflowing with unorganized paperwork, and slammed it down. Stance didn't even look nervous. His pen was merely a blur, now; no doubt he was complaining about his attitude problem. Yes, 'bots sent _directly_ by Cybertron Command were that predictable.

'I know this isn't exactly convenient, but I require your full cooperation. I'm doing a private investigation into how Shockwave managed to side-step the background check. Did you notice any unusual mannerisms before his identity was uncovered? No? Yes? Agent Cliffjumper, I'm aware of your dedication when it comes to your work, but this is extremely important if we wish to avoid similar incidents in the future.'

'I'm busy,' snapped Cliffjumper. 'Come back later.'

More notes. 'Did you notice any unusual mannerisms from Shockwave before his cover was exposed?'

Cliffjumper's optic twitched. 'Just tense. He was just tense.'

'Did he ever work over-hours?'

'Yeah, but that was normal!'

'Did he ever ask you to do tasks that were suspicious in nature?'

'If you call "nothing" suspicious, then, yes.'

'Very interesting,' Stance skimmed down his notes. 'Describe him.'

'A good leader, intelligent, and a traitorous slagger,' Cliffjumper didn't waver at the question. He began to shuffle around the boxes, appearing to be trying to make more room. In reality, he was trying to give his hands something to do, so he didn't spontaneously strangle this newcomer.

'When did you first meet him?'

'A long time ago.'

'Did he offer you this job?'

'Look, he needed a personal assistant, the femmes were being complete glitches about it, and I was at hand. Simple as that.'

'Did he ever discuss his personal affairs with you? Were you two social in any way?'

'Are you _implying_ something?' Cliffjumper asked.

'No. Answer the question.'

He grumbled. 'Yeah, we'd go out for oil once in a while, but we weren't really friends. It was just a boss-employee thing. Are you done asking questions?'

'Hardly,' said Stance. 'Do you know if he had any personal relationships?'

'No,' replied Cliffjumper. 'He kept to himself.'

'Are you sure?'

'No.'

'You mentioned before that Shockwave often worked over-hours. Do you know what he worked on?'

'Paperwork, private communications, c'mon! This is Cybertron Intelligence! This place is built on secrets!'

'Private communications? Do you know who he spoke to?'

'He used secure frequencies. I always thought he was talking to one of the agents.

'That sounds very suspicious, and I do not doubt that my superiors would agree.' Stance paused. 'Did you ever ask him who he was communicating with?'

'I just told you, I never knew who he was talking with,' said Cliffjumper. '"Longarm" did a lot of his own work. I received the paperwork or communications, and I patched them through. I never eavesdropped, because there was no reason to be suspicious. Everything about that kind of behaviour is normal in Cybertron Intelligence. Perhaps you and the rest of those guys high up need to get out more.'

Cliffjumper turned to find himself right in Stance's shadow. He let out a frustrated growl, sidestepped him, and proceeded to organize a drawer of a filing cabinet. Stance's supremely impassive optics were on him the entire time.

'Quit _staring_ at me! Are we done yet?'

Stance didn't say anything for what seemed like endless cycles. 'When was the last time you saw Agent Blurr?'

Cliffjumper froze. Very slowly, he turned to face his interrogator. Stance waited expectedly for a reply, pen poised, ready to drop the dagger. It was probable that he was going to end Cliffjumper's career if he worded this incorrectly. This is what the conversation had been building up to.

Cliffjumper raised a pen to scratch the side of his head. 'Agent Blurr? Uh, no, not for a while.'

'Explain.'

'Field agents don't hang around here, and when they come by, it's usually not for long,' elaborated Cliffjumper. 'Blurr – being the best – he's usually gone for stellar cycles. He choses the hard jobs, and gets straight on it. Doesn't seem to like Cybertron much. He checks in every three or four solar cycles.'

'I see. And when was the last time he checked in?'

Cliffjumper picked up the file he'd set aside. The one with Blurr's profile staring blankly at the ceiling. He scrolled down so he wouldn't have to look at his identification picture, aiming instead for the dates Stance had requested.

'Last time...four solar cycles before Longarm...quit.'

'So he's severely overdue. Why didn't you note his absence?'

Cliffjumper waved a datapad in Stance's faceplate. '_Hello_? Government turmoil? I was a little _distracted_ by the fact that my boss was actually a slagging Decepticon!'

'Interesting. According to your records, you attended the Autobot Academy with Agent Blurr. Can you describe the extent of your relationship?'

'Professional.'

'What was his last known location?'

'If my records are so detailed that they note who my classmates were,' Cliffjumper glared, 'then I'm sure Blurr's are _just _as informative. Check them, because I don't have a slagging clue. Shockwave had him on some...secret mission. Ultra Magnus asked for him, personally. I only handled communications.'

'How long have you been working for Shockwave?'

His piled the profiles to move them to a safer location, _away_ from Stance. 'Word that more carefully.'

'How long were you _unwittingly_ working for Shockwave?'

'I wasn't working for Shockwave! I was working for Longarm Prime, who was supposed to be an Autobot! Are you suggesting I'm a traitor?'

'Nothing of the sort.'

'I'm gonna have to get you to leave.'

'Come again?'

'I have work to do, and you're in my way. OUT.'

Despite the fact that Stance could easily slag him, Cliffjumper decided he didn't care. He roughly pushed the agent through the door, though it took a kick and two punches before he left. Standing at the top of the conveyor belt, perhaps determined to remain respectful, Stance resumed scribbling on his datapad.

'I'll be waiting for you, Agent Cliffjumper,' he promised. 'Mark my words, this _will_ be in my report!'

Infuriated, Cliffjumper grabbed the nearest datapad and swung it at Stance. It hit the 'bot in the forehead.

'That too!'

Cliffjumper stormed back into the shelter of his office. He let out a roar and kicked over the nearest pile of boxes. Which initiated the domino effect. Which freed the debris, creating a new mess to be picked up. He let out an appropriate groan.

Every day brought more complete injustice on Cybertron Command's behalf. When Ultra Magnus was back in charge, he was going to find an inbox stuffed full of complaints with Cliffjumper's name on them!

Familiar words from an old friend echoed in his head. _Calm down, Cliffjumper. Shooting everything won't help._

'It'd sure make me feel better,' Cliffjumper muttered.

He didn't care what said old friend thought. He wanted to destroy something. And he knew exactly what.

Cliffjumper began to pull apart the datapad pile on his desk, each containing a detailed profile on an Autobot somehow involved in the Intel department.

He found the file he sought near the middle. Longarm Prime.

Cliffjumper threw it to the floor and stomped on the face with the enormous red eye on the forehead. He took pleasure in seeing the broken glass covering the traitor's profile, over that _evil_ eye. It had been the only visible connection to his Decepticon roots. He and every Autobot had been too absorbed in their own business to notice. (So obvious!) Cliffjumper glared down at it with as much malice as possible, and one-by-one dropped the pieces down the incinerator shoot.

Some of the bubbling rage left his system, though not entirely. Cliffjumper went to the window and leaned against the frame. He could see every 'bot in the courtyard, but he only had optics for Stance. The Autobot was waking away from the Metroplex. Perhaps he'd decided that he would attempt to ambush Cliffjumper back at his quarters. He might be able to shoot the guy from this distance...

_That's probably not a good idea_.

Cliffjumper slouched into his chair, glumly examining the disorder. They wanted him to be done by the end of the day? Not possible. It was the best answer they were gonna get. He just needed to get back home, away from this place that reminded him of his own foolishness. Than again, once he was alone, what would he do? Think about Longarm. Everywhere he went he was reminded of that traitor!

His thoughts were shattered with a high-pitched whine. Someone wanted something from him and Cybertron Intelligence. Knowing the nature of most calls of this day, it was probably a waste of his time.

But he needed a distraction.

'Cybertron Intelligence. Cliffjumper speaking.'

* * *

Cliffjumper couldn't see Rosanna over the pile of boxes he was holding, and he was very grateful for that.

'Thanks, Cliffjumper!' Rosanna chimed. 'We've been looking for these everywhere! Don't tell me they were in Cybertron Intellgence all this time!'

'Unfortunately, yes,' said Cliffjumper. 'They were causing a big mess, so when records go missing, _look for them_.'

'Aw, shucks, I kept forgetting,' Rosanna giggled. 'Oh, hey, _I_ just wrote a new song! Wanna hear it?'

'Primus, no.'

'Well...do you want help carrying those?'

'No!'

'Don't get angry! I just want to help.'

'Don't need it. Good _night_.'

Cliffjumper readjusted the boxes and headed back towards the door. Unfortunately, that also involved navigating through the Hall of Records. Past shelves rising straight up through an atrium, past upper floors filled with _more_ records. (Some records on the main bookcase were so high you needed a lift to reach them.) Then there were the tables, _conveniently_ preventing him from making a straight beeline for the door.

Somehow this made an incredibly accurate metaphor for his life.

He sighed and weaved his way over to the exit.

Truth was, he was just frustrated because he didn't have any other legitimate excuse to keep working. It was time to get home. Cliffjumper ran through his list one more time, while squeezing between a femme who appeared to be arguing with her bodyguard...Never mind, he didn't want to know. Somehow, he found the automatic door and stepped out into the street just beyond, suddenly hit with the general noise of commute.

Cliffjumper took two steps before he ran into someone.

'Watch it!' he yelled.

'Sorry about – oh.'

The voice was immediately recognizable. Cliffjumper peered around the boxes and came face-to-face with the last 'bot he wanted to see. No, not Stance. This was worse. His scanners hadn't even registered Rodimus Prime. Flanking him was part of his crew; the stout, but burly, Brawn and a fervently energetic 'bot whose name escaped him. Apparently, they'd been enjoying themselves until they caught sight of Cliffjumper. They'd been blissfully ignoring the war with the Decepticons and, _most_ unfortunately, there was no sign that Rodimus ever being infected with Cosmic Rust.

There was a painful – or, rather, a very awkward – silence.

'Cliffjumper,' Rodimus greeted him in monotone.

'Rodimus,' he did likewise. 'What are you doing here?'

'I just got out of recovery,' explained Rodimus. 'Iacon isn't exactly open for business, so we're stuck on Cybertron for a while. The Space Bridges aren't going anywhere.'

'But the Decepticons are,' Cliffjumper reminded him.

'It's been _stellar cycles_ since any of us have visited Cybertron.'

'Based on your record, it's been stellar cycles since you've done anything of use.'

'Knock it off!' Brawn cut in. 'You disconnect your voicebox! We're doin' more "useful" stuff than you'll ever do! Slagging secretary, ya can't respect anyone, can ya? I've seen Hot Shot have more than that! All you do is sit in yer cozy little office and pretend nothing's wrong!'

Cliffjumper's optic twitched.

'I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that you still haven't gotten over that little argument,' the young 'bot said.

'_Who_ are you?' asked Cliffjumper.

'...Hot Shot.'

Ah, yes. The one who wouldn't shut up.

'Are we enemies?' squeaked Hot Shot, ducking behind Rodimus.

'What do you think of Decepticons?'

'Hate 'em.'

'We're friends,' he turned back to the others. 'I can hardly say the same thing for you two. As I recall, Cybertron Command ordered all Space Bridge crews to be on high alert and prepared to go out into the field. By not being at your posts, you're breaching protocol. There could be a court martial.'

'You would know,' Rodimus scowled. 'So, are the rumours true? Are you being considered for head of Cybertron Intelligence? Primus help us all, if you are.'

'It's none of your business,' said Cliffjumper. _Course they are! And when it's official, I'm gonna kick your sorry exhaust port!_

'I hope someone's spreading false information,' Rodimus continued. 'There'll be court martials left and right.'

'And yours will be the first.'

'_Hey_! Back off!' Hot Shot shouted. Cliffjumper glanced towards the flamethrowers visibly mounted on each forearm. Must be designed to be a pyrotechician. But those could easily be put to other uses.

'I don't need protection, Hot Shot,' Rodimus assured him.

'This guy's walkin' all over you!' exclaimed Hot Shot. 'You said yourself he spends all his time in an office! What's he done that's useful, when _our_ team has fought Decepticons?'

Cliffjumper dropped his supplies and shoved Hot Shot to the ground without thinking. When the 'bot looked up again, he was staring down the barrel of an enormous cannon that Cliffjumper, himself, was surprised he could hold with one hand. The crowd suddenly dispersed, some letting out cries of surprise at the abrupt activity. Otherwise they remained unconcerned. He even caught wind of comments like "he's at it again" and "let's watch."

'You wanna say that again?' Cliffjumper demanded.

'Don't panic, Hot Shot,' said Rodimus.

'Yeah, just don't make any sudden movements,' scoffed Brawn. 'Okay, seriously, _quit_ that!'

Brawn knocked the cannon upwards. It fired. A ball of blue energy went some five hundred meters at a forty-five degree angle. Some Autobots ducked in its wake. It exploded with a muffled bang. Cliffjumper felt the unnaturally heavy sound waves ripple through the air.

Just when he wanted all the attention in the world...

'Why'd you do that?' Cliffjumper shouted.

'Gee, I wonder,' Brawn casually strolled off. 'C'mon, Rodimus, Hot Shot! Let's get before security shows up!'

Cliffjumper growled and shoved his cannon back in its customary place. He bent over to retrieve up his discarded supplies. _Control yourself._

Apparently, Hot Shot didn't get the hint, hence was oblivious to his unwanted presence. He helped him gather up the scattered datapads. But soon Cliffjumper had his mind on other things. Since Shockwave (that traitor) had revealed himself, security had been tightened. Where were the guards? They should be here by now, questioning, and taking him into custody...Like the day Shockwave showed his true colours, there was something not right with this picture.

'So...where can I get one of those cannons?' Hot Shot asked.

'What? Oh you can't,' said Cliffjumper, quickly scanning the clearing. 'Hard to come by.'

He vacated the area the moment Hot Shot handed him the last datapad. Hot Shot and Rodimus exchanged a confused look.

Cliffjumper was too worried to notice. Something _definitely_ wasn't right, and Team Rodimus was the least of his worries.

* * *

Around him, Autobots whizzed by in their altmodes, paying him no attention, and not caring who he was. Yet. If word got out that he was wanted for questioning by Cybertron Command, panic would take over. And considering what they were about to learn – about the traitor and Ultra Magnus's condition – they were _probably_ going to be willing to believe that anyone was a Decepticon. Their neighbours. Their friends. Their...bosses. But there was an upside to his situation. Cybertron Command would want to keep this quiet, so it was reasonable to assume that they'd handle this without drawing too much attention. This offered Cliffjumper little comfort. He'd already decided that being interrogated was the last thing he wanted or needed.

Satisfied that all was well (for the time being), Cliffjumper stepped onto the hovering platform, along with several of the building's residents. All of them were chatting, their long-winded conversations centered mainly on the events on Earth. He recognized them by their faces, but had never bothered to interact or learn their names. Usually he didn't try. But he did turn upon sensing someone passing near him and a weak, sneering smile crept up his face.

'Quit sneaking around, Mirage,' Cliffjumper said.

'I'm not sneaking around,' the blue and white Autobot suddenly appeared at his side. The wings of the Elite Guard heroically glinted in the frail lighting. But his face, unlike the others, was disconsolate. 'Why would I sneak around? Then again, why would I want to be seen in this sort of company? Okay, so I was sneaking around. Stop looking at me like I did something wrong.'

'I thought you were still on the front lines.'

'I was, until two solar cycles ago. I had to give my report to Sentinel Prime via video conference.'

'How'd that go?'

'Let's just say that I can't wait until Ultra Magnus is out of stasis,' Mirage murmured. He turned away from the others on the platform. 'Everyone's are going crazy, despite appearances. Lots of Autobots are just packing up and leaving central. They think it's the target of a major 'Con attack sometime in the near future...I wonder why they'd leave central? Sure, the real estate is a little _expensive_, but perhaps if they worked a little harder to get some money...lazy Autobots. At least _Decepticons_ have a little sense.'

'Watch your voice box, or else I'll tear it right out!'

'I thought Autobots were supposed to encourage peace. It's times like this when I think Decepticons would be better company.'

He growled and tried to push aside his annoyance. 'Is it true about central being the center of an attack, then?'

'In light of the uprisings, I'm pretty sure that they're willing to believe anything,' said Mirage. 'Besides, I figured _you_ would be the 'bot to know. You are being considered for head of Intel, aren't you?'

'The council's working to make it official.'

'I'm shocked and appalled!'

'What? Why?'

'That _you_ are being considered for head of Intel.'

'...Are you jealous?'

'I most certainly am not. I...just wish my luck was just as good...I've been helping to secure all of the Space Bridges. Most boring assignment in the galaxy. You won't believe some of the nutcases I have to put up with. Really uncivilized, too. They seem bent on blowing up Decepticons without thinking about the consequences. Luckily with Shockwave –'

Cliffjumper snarled.

'Oh, grow up. Luckily with Shockwave out of the picture I think that the Space Bridges aren't going to be a problem. No one will be able to use them to get in or out.'

Cliffjumper didn't answer.

'Dear Primus, is it still possible?'

'I'm...not allowed to say.'

The platform came to a jerky halt. Cliffjumper would've fallen overboard, if Mirage hadn't materialized to pull him back. As he regained his balance, everyone else on board stepped off.

'Listen, Cliffjumper, I think they're doing some sort of background check on you,' said Mirage the moment the platform moved again.

His circuitry clenched. 'That's expected, if I'm gonna be head of Intel.'

'Not what I meant. You know that neighbour of yours? Oh...what's her name...? Flareup, I think; she has a vile temper, but she's nice enough. Well, anyways, I met Flareup right outside Cybertron Command about a megacycle ago, and she said that a whole bunch of Elite Guard 'bots were poking 'round your place. A bunch of Autotroopers, allegedly.'

Primus, they couldn't leave a 'bot alone. 'When was this?'

'Right after you left for work this morning, from the sounds of it,' Mirage shrugged. 'Is there a new policy or something?'

'Not that I know of,' Cliffjumper muttered. 'So...want to check it out with me?'

'Uh, sure, I have time,' Mirage blinked. 'But don't expect me to go inside. You _know_ how I feel about the state of your quarters.'

Cliffjumper and Mirage jumped off the platform accordingly, the former leading the way at a brisk pace. He just hoped that Flareup had been over-exaggerating about Autotroopers rummaging through his quarters...

The duo turned the corner and stopped.

Cliffjumper knew the location of his quarters well. His were on the corner of the 31st floor. It took him ten minutes to get from the entrance to his front door. His neighbours were noisy. So, it wasn't hard to notice said neighbours standing around on the walkway parallel to the platform's rail. They were staring at his front door, where two Autotroopers were hovering.

They spotted him.

'Here!' Cliffjumper shoved the boxes into Mirage's arms.

'HALT!' shouted the Autotroopers.

He didn't halt. He ran for it.

Cliffjumper burst through the nearby stairwell door, barely missing a trio of innocent Autobots on the other side. The troopers followed. He scurried down the stairs as fast as possible, feeling his armour strain under the pressure of swinging around each tight turn.

He softly counted how many levels he was going down, until he reached number one.

Cliffjumper careened through the final door. Ignoring the ruckus behind and in front of him, Cliffjumper hurtled past the various Autobots journeying through the building's lobby. He dived behind one of the pillars.

The door he'd entered by nearly tore off its hinges as the Autotroopers stormed through. Panting, he pressed his body against the pillar, carefully rounding it to keep his back to them the whole time.

Of course, it wouldn't stay like that. An Autotrooper pointed in his direction. He bolted to the main entrance, managing to push past a few Autobots to get through it. On the street, he transformed and took off.

He knew it was pointless. Government property. There were Autotroopers and Elite Guard 'bots swarming this place, and they weren't about to let him get away. But he could try. He heard their sirens cutting over the chatter of the crowd. As he went on, they faded. Perhaps they'd taken a wrong turn and were now uselessly attempting to locate him. (Which was impossible, seeing as he knew the grounds a little too well.)

Cliffjumper returned to robot mode and took shelter in an alley. Nanoclicks later, a pair of Autroopers whisked by in a blaze of noise and flashing lights.

He exhaled.

An Autotrooper walked into view, swiveling his head and setting his emotionless optics on Cliffjumper.

The chase resumed. Cliffjumper hurtled down the alley as fast as his servos would let him. At the other end – the humanity – Rodimus Prime, Hot Shot, and Brawn were standing just outside. (Waiting for something?)

Cliffjumper shoved through them, knocking over Hot Shot. 'OUTTA MY WAY!'

The Autotrooper followed closely, just missing Cliffjumper's ankle. He pushed through consistent packs of Autobots in his bid for freedom.

'Halt!' the Autotrooper cried.

Cliffjumper sprinted past the next shop. Something caught his ankles. He went down.

Flat on the pavement, he wheeled around, prepared to beat the slag out of the Autotrooper. Except that it wasn't the Autotrooper who had tackled him.

'You're not very bright, you know that, right?' panted Mirage.

Growling, Cliffjumper kicked Mirage in the head and got to his feet. He was barely up when he was slammed to the ground yet again. A sharp, stinging sensation shot up his arm and cuffs were snapped onto his wrists. He was forced to his feet.

'You are under arrest,' announced the Autotrooper.

Cliffjumper clicked. 'What? What for?' He desperately glanced at Mirage, who shrugged.

'Suspect in custody,' the Autotrooper said over his com link. 'Returning to the Metroplex. All units return to your stations.'

The Autotrooper roughly shoved him down the street, back from whence they came. They passed Rodimus and his team. Cliffjumper kept his eyes on Rodimus and, to his surprise, Rodimus actually looked sympathetic. Of course, his sympathy was merged with an expression of shock and disgust.

'What're you looking at?' Cliffjumper snipped as Rodimus continued to stare.

The Autotrooper shoved him and Mirage tailed behind at a safe distance. Cliffjumper saw his own confusion reflected in the eyes of his fellow Autobots at the scene. Still dazed, he lacked all of his usual energy to fight against the guard. He didn't know why he was being arrested. He had the right to refuse to answer questions, though Cybertron Command had their usual, non-violent ways of persuasion. Or was this even about rights? Was this the council's dark idea of a joke? Maybe there were cameras all around, and he was going to be released at any moment.

Cliffjumper quickly dissuaded himself from this idea. He didn't know what to think. All that he was certain of was that he wasn't going back to work tomorrow.


	3. The Process

**Chapter Three  
****The Process**

Cliffjumper was always the dictator when it came to interrogations, furiously tailing his boss around. He'd been the observer with a front-row seat. Though, at first, his opinion hadn't exactly mattered, Longarm began to trust him. He asked him if he believed that the 'bot was hiding something. The accused – or victim – would gaze hopelessly into space. Bore straight into him, beg for the compassion they did not deserve. Meanwhile, here he was. Arrogantly aloof, not taking their emotions into consideration. It was protocol. Under this roof, there were two parties. The guilty and the innocent. The villains and the heroes.

Never had he dreamed of being the villain.

He paced in the narrow cell. Every few nanoclicks, he'd go up to the electric bars and peer towards the doorway. Then to the clock.

They were late.

Cliffjumper circled the cell for the millionth time. He needed to get out of here, though how he was going to do that was something he hadn't quite figured out. Even if he did get out, it wasn't like he could fight his way to safety. They'd relieved him of his weapons, for obvious reasons. Down to the last cherry bomb. His fists weren't going to work against lasers. Now, if he got a _shield_ or something, or took somebody prisoner...But that was out of the question. He wasn't going to resort to the lengths that most Decepticons took.

On queue, the door swung open.

_It's about slagging time_, Cliffjumper scurried to the bars and peered out. He growled at the sight of Sentinel's face, though the Prime seemed to be expecting this. Behind him, Jazz. And behind him, Stance.

An audience. How quaint.

'...Well?' Sentinel said.

'_Well_?!' Cliffjumper shouted. '_Well,_ what?! What did I do?! I didn't do anything wrong! I should be saying "_well_!"'

'Well, for the moment, we can't allow you to just walk out of here,' Stance said. 'State your name and function.'

'Why?'

'This conversation is being recorded. It's for future reference. Now, state your name and function.'

He opened his mouth, then closed it. _I'm not playing this game._

'Name and function.'

Another lull in the conversation. He kept his voice flat, his features empty, though his fists were tight. 'Cliffjumper. Currently an agent for Cybertron Intelligence.'

'Why were you so evasive in the questioning process?' inquired Stance.

'I didn't want to answer. I have rights.'

'Correct, but you never said so.'

'I shouldn't have to.'

'You're working for Cybertron Intelligence,' said Stance. 'You were being considered for head of Intel, as a Prime. Not only that, but you have been in the employ of Cybertron Command for nearly 2000 stellar cycles. By now, you should know the laws, respect, and obey them.'

'Stop talking to me like I'm a fragging protoform! Why am I here in the first place?! Deciding not to cooperate shouldn't get me arrested!'

'You're right, it shouldn't. But that isn't the reason you were brought in.'

Stance shot his hand through the electric bars, showing a datapad. It displayed Blurr's profile. The same Autobot that haunted Cliffjumper's dreams and nicked at his consciousness.

He was caught off guard, Cliffjumper admitted that. Tenderly, he took the datapad and skimmed down the profile.

'You do remember Agent Blurr. Optimus Prime's crew has reported that they last saw him hurtling through the illegal Space Bridge constructed by Megatron. Some of our outposts have stated that they clearly registered Blurr's energy signature over a specific amount of time following these events. Sources suggest he was heading back to Cybertron...A journey that, in these circumstances, shouldn't take too long. We have reason to believe that either you or Shockwave know what happened to him.'

'I...I...I don't know,' Cliffjumper stammered. 'He would've gone straight to the head of Intel.'

'But _you _were a trusted agent of Cybertron Intelligence, and Blurr knew you worked right under him.'

'Longarm was still in charge.'

'And you, his secretary.'

'I prefer the term "personal assistant."'

Stance leaned in. Even this earnest Autobot couldn't disguise his frustration. 'Do you know where Blurr is? Any information you can provide could prove to be vital. Were there any specific assignments that would've influenced where he went? Any locations he might proceed to?'

'No, that isn't like him,' Cliffjumper shook his head. 'If he was heading back to Cybertron, he would've gone straight to Longarm. No questions asked.'

'So there is nothing you can tell us?'

'About time you figured that out.'

Stance slightly inclined his head towards Sentinel. He backed up a bit, and they exchanged a few words in low whispers. Cliffjumper attempted an expression of complete innocence as he looked towards Jazz. Jazz shook his head.

He let out a low sigh and waited with as much patience as he could muster. It took Sentinel a while before he could ever admit he was wrong, so this was to be expected. But he then began to sense something. An emotion, an idea – notorious inspiration – coming from Stance. He optics widened in his alarm. The possibility of freedom was slipping away, just as quickly as it had built up.

Stance stepped forwards, again.

'Where were we?' he asked.

'Let's see, you were about to let me go,' said Cliffjumper.

'Far from it,' Stance took up his signature position. 'You know where Blurr is.'

'No, I don't.'

'You're lying.'

'I'm...not...LYING!'

Cliffjumper slammed his fist against the wall. The noise set everyone around him on edge, Sentinel's hand actually lowering down to grab his sword. Only Stance remained unmoved. Amazingly, his expression almost smug.

'How about this,' Stance went on. 'According to your history, you were initially manufactured for peacekeeping. 3rd grade stingers, used for defense or construction only. And there are no records in existence that legally acknowledge a medical procedure to remove those stingers. Two days ago, at 1902 hours, you were seen firing an energy cannon. Further sources inform me that energy cannons are not traditionally in Autobot use.'

'I got mine far out of Autobot territory.'

'In Decepticon territory, perhaps?'

Cliffjumper glowered at Stance, instinctively ready to grab a weapon. Only to realize – with a pang – he no longer had any.

'I'm not answering anything else,' said Cliffjumper.

'Never mind. You'll have to, for the trial.'

'Woah, woah, back up! Trial?!'

'Yes, the weapons are evidence enough to bring you to court.'

'WHAT ARE THE CHARGES?!'

Cliffjumper leapt forwards. Jarring electricity swarmed over him as he hit the bars. He twitched violently, fell backwards, and that was the last thing he knew.

* * *

He was going to kill Sentinel.

That was his first thought upon reawakening. Next realization was that he couldn't move, and that whatever was holding him down was biting cold. Light shone through the blackness protecting his optics; soft, white, and, in his discomfort, a source of commiseration. The pain momentarily died down. Then Cliffjumper remembered the events that had led up to this point, and it resumed with a burning passion.

...He was _really_ going to kill Sentinel.

Right as he was pondering this, he sensed someone leaning towards his face. He pried his optics wide open.

Mirage screamed and jumped back into the wall. Cliffjumper, despite feeling like scrap metal, managed a sneering excuse for a smile.

'PRIMUS! You scared the slag out of me!' gasped Mirage. 'Thought you were dead, for a minute there.'

'Hmph.'

Mirage laughed nervously. But it faded away, and his expression became serious. 'So, Cliffjumper the criminal. I was mortified when I found out why they'd arrested you. I even attempted to post bail, but they wouldn't let me do that, either. To think I kept company with you all these years...'

Cliffjumper blinked and scrutinized the backdrop for this conversation. Yes, it was the _same_ fragging cell block all right. His sensors re-arranging themselves, he began to feel the anguish of this place. The energy barrier restricting his (and Mirage's) movements was activated. (Not that he could've move at all, because now he visually confirmed the restraints securing him to an upright berth.)

'Cybertron to Cliffjumper!' Mirage snapped his fingers.

'Sorry,' muttered Cliffjumper. He rattled the restraints, testing their strength. 'Are these necessary?'

'Everyone seems to think so.'

He rattled them again, then tried to slip out. '...How'd you get in here, anyways?'

'I had to get special permission from Sentinel Prime. Looked at me funny, but with my witty charm, he decided to let me in. I had to bribe him actually, but don't tell anyone I said that...That's why I took so long.'

'Huh? How long have I been –'

'About four solar cycles,' shrugged Mirage. 'Primus, they really were eager to sedate you after you _electrocuted _yourself. I mean, what were you thinking?! You know those bars were designed to keep nutcases like you in here! Especially with all those weapons...'

He suddenly remembered handing those over. Cliffjumper glared at Mirage.

'What?'

'You SLAGGING, FRAGGING, KNOCK-OFF PISTON HEAD! You handed be over! WAIT UNTIL I GET OUT OF –' he struggled hopelessly. Mirage backed up, hands raised in defense.

'Calm down, Cliffjumper,' Mirage put his servos on his hips. 'You _know_ why I helped captured you, and we both _know_ that it was for your own good! You would've just made things worse by running away!'

'I WANT MY WEAPONS BACK, TOO!'

'Those _were just_ weapons_,' _said Mirage. 'Don't look at me like that! You know there was nothing I could've done, despite my social status. Those are central pieces of evidence for the trial. What were you thinking when you got those?!'

'They blew up stuff. Good enough for me.'

He crossed his arms, looking irritated. 'That's not going to work for the judge...Unless I bribe him, which I will not.'

'Primus, I'm really going into court?!...No one's told me anything, not one slagging thing! I can't go to the stockades! If you only read the reports about what happened to Wasp! He lost his mind, all because he was framed for something he didn't do!' He sighed. '...Wait until I get my hands on Sentinel! HE'S DEAD!'

'Not a good idea, considering what you're being charged with.'

'THEN TELL ME WHAT! Stop keeping secrets from me, already!'

Mirage hesitated. It confirmed his suspicions before he said anything.

'It's...bad,' he concluded.

'Frag it all, Mirage! Either you tell me, or leave right now!'

'They put together a pretty big list,' Mirage answered. 'First-degree murder, attempted assassination, high treason, possession of illegal weapons, assault, and resisting arrest. But right now, their main gig is that they think you killed that fast-talking fellow who worked for Intel.'

'I didn't kill Blurr, slaggit!' snapped Cliffjumper. _Directly_. 'If anyone killed the guy, it was Shockwave. Do I look like a Decepticon to you? Don't believe ANYTHING they say!'

'Quit shouting! Primus! You are and were acting so guilty. I don't blame them for arresting you!'

'Who's side are you on?'

'I'm trying to figure that out.'

He gaped at Mirage, who quickly lowered his gaze.

'You're kidding me,' said Cliffjumper.

'These are serious charges,' continued Mirage. 'I'm...I'm not sure what to think, to be honest. I'm a high-ranking Autobot in the Elite Guard, I'm very rich, and I don't want to get on the wrong side of the law. Not with all that I've worked to achieve. Cliffjumper, you have to understand, I really do want to help you out but...if – if you're guilty and lying –'

'You'll have been friends with a traitor and might be suspected of being involved. You'd loose all of your precious Elite Guard glory. But the thing is...'

Thinking thin, Cliffjumper lifted his left arm out of the restraints. He grabbed Mirage by the throat, easily lifting him a good two feet off the ground. The soldier kicked wildly; his eyes wide and pleading.

'YOU'RE THE FRAGGING TRAITOR!' Cliffjumper shouted.

A gurgle escaped from Mirage, one that vaguely resembled the word "help." But then he slipped through his fingers. Cliffjumper instinctively attempted to re-adjust his grip.

Yet Mirage was already re-materializing on the other side of the barrier, where Jetstorm was skidding to a halt behind him. (Jetfire ran him down half a second later and they ended up in a squabbling heap.) Gasping for air, Mirage lowered himself to a ground, nothing but shock and hurt on his face.

'Want to try that when I'm out of these restraints?!' Cliffjumper dared. 'Come back in here and face me!'

He might as well have been shouting to the wall. The Jettwins - giving each other dirty looks - escorted Mirage away, leaving Cliffjumper to struggle with the rest of the restraints.

He'd been betrayed. Not only by all of the Autobots, but by the one guy he thought would stick by him.


	4. Easier Said Than Done

**Chapter Four  
**"**Easier Said Than Done"**

Wheeljack rambled on about politics. Cliffjumper pretended to pay attention. While he was supposed to be focusing on his appearance in front of the High Council, his mind was wandering all over the place. Everything about his plan seemed perfect. Everything, except getting out of C.C.'s custody. But he did not doubt himself. He'd get out, whether it took him one stellar cycle or fifty. After all, he knew all the tricks and had schematics locked away in his memory. He wasn't just your regular prisoner. He was an Intel agent. Training in that area gave him a great advantage when compared to others.

Unfortunately, they'd already figured that out, which was the only reason Cliffjumper had managed a few solar cycles in custody.

'C'mon, CJ, optics on me,' Wheeljack said. 'This is important if you wanna get out of this. Keeping in mind that I'm only doing this as a favour...'

'Yeah, fine, what were you saying?'

It was the perfect way to get his incompetent, so-called "ally" to indulge in a long-winded speech of highly complicated instructions. Cliffjumper tuned him out and, instead, sought a method of escape. But it would certainly be unsuccessful in his current position. Jetstorm and Jetfire were right outside his door – having been assigned to keep him under their vigilant watch. No windows. The corridor was narrow, so he'd be blocked by a flurry of guards, even if it did make it past the energy barrier and the combined forces of the twins.

As he gazed absently at the exit, they pulled a few faces. Cliffjumper rolled his eyes. He _really_ should be paying attention to what Wheeljack was going on about.

'...and don't say anything unless spoken to,' said Wheeljack. 'When you do talk, don't be a smart aleck. Don't move. Don't resist. Don't act suspicious or hesitate when you're asked a question, but think before you speak. For the sake of Primus, try to answer honestly.'

'Just sit there and play stupid?' Cliffjumper summed it up.

'Not stupid. Innocent.'

Cliffjumper sank lower into his chair. This was so degrading.

'Moving on,' Wheeljack chimed. 'Don't smile. Don't frown. Don't ask for anything. Don't interact with the other Autobots that will be present –'

'Exactly how many Autobots are going to be there?' asked Cliffjumper.

'Oh, just a few. It's a private matter.'

He gave the twins an inquisitive look. They mimicked counting to a very high number, marking off each of their fingers and repeating the action several times.

'...You aren't paying attention, are you?' inquired Wheeljack.

'Nope. Now _leave_.'

The mech shook his head. 'Okay, than...I was just trying to help.'

Wheeljack made it to the barrier.

'I'll see you tomorrow,' said Wheeljack. 'Listen...you sure you don't have any other questions?'

He hesitated. 'Will Ultra Magnus be there?'

'No, he's still in recovery,' answered Wheeljack. 'We're having trouble getting him out of modified stasis, to begin with. Then his backup systems were completely destroyed, so it's too much of a risk to bring him out of it until that's up. It's a shame. He'd be a key witness in this case. But Sentinel is insisting on a quick trial...'

Cliffjumper recognized the bitterness in his tone. At least he wasn't the only one frustrated by Sentinel's handling of the situation.

'That all?'

'Yeah.'

'Alright, than. Can you deactivate the barrier?'

He could only relax when Wheeljack was out of sight. Gone was the vivid reminder of what he was going to have to face tomorrow. Up came his visions of escape. His dastardly plan which was very liable to fail. But he had to try. There was nothing for him now. Cliffjumper had dedicated his whole life to his job, and he was going to do it until the day he was offlined.

-

He came out of sleep mode, welcomed by darkness. Shaking. Cliffjumper couldn't figure out why, except that it had to do with a dream. For a brief moment, it was silent, and he lived in a moment of pure bliss. Feeling totally relaxed, he pretended he was exploring another planet. Perhaps on a beach, or by a mountain, or just in the middle of no where. Perhaps on a field mission for the academy, waking up full of the vigorous anticipation of adventure and challenge.

Grinning, Cliffjumper was just thinking to himself that he should start looking around for Blurr. He'd have to tell him about the dream he couldn't remember; that guy could start hurtling out ideas to jog his memory. (While Cliffjumper would spend 97.5 percent of the time trying to figure out what the hell he was saying.)

And then, it rebounded mercilessly on him. Blurr was dead.

'No, he isn't,' he muttered to no one in particular.

Yes, he is.

He isn't. Blurr didn't consider death, and neither would Cliffjumper. It was part of the pact they'd made years before. One goes missing. The other searches. Specific guidelines that, up until a few megacycles ago, had merely been a subconscious law ruling his life. Pure instinct.

Hold that thought. There were more important matters at hand, such as finding out how he was supposed to get out of C.C.'s custody. Heck, Blurr had managed it at one point. He could just imagine him speeding past every Autobot in his path, so light on his feet that they only felt a slight breeze.

Why did he even care about what happened to Blurr, anyways? They weren't even friends anymore. He was just a dead Autobot; another casualty of war.

Cliffjumper suddenly remembered a part of the dream.

He refused to linger. He focused all energy on making theories.

Slaggit, that'd have to wait too. He jumped off the birth as he heard the guards approaching. Their footfalls were heavy, their voices low and serious. It was time to face the music, in front of a multitude of 'bots who were _supposed_ to be collecting evidence against Shockwave; not him.

"His" team consisted of only the Jettwins. Maybe someone up there was heeding to his wishes to make this quick and painless. The Jettwins entered the cell to secure his arms.

'No cuffs,' Cliffjumper piped up when Jetstorm produced said cuffs.

'Mr. Sentinel says he is wanting you to be handcuffed,' Jetstorm waved them in his face, to which Cliffjumper resist the irrational urge to break his wrist. (But, knowing the Jettwins, Jetfire would proceed to kill him.)

'Touch me, and I'll offline you, myself.'

'We be touching you already,' pointed out Jetstorm.

'Look, brother, I am still online!' Jetfire poked Cliffjumper on the head.

'Quit that!' Cliffjumper smacked his hands away. 'Will you two zip it?!'

'Zip!' piped up Jetfire.

'Zip!' exclaimed Jetstorm.

'Zip!'

'Zip!'

'Do you want us to be keeping up with the "zipping?"'

'I know what I want you to do,' said Cliffjumper. 'SHUT UP!'

'That be the clearest order we get all solar cycle,' Jetfire whispered to his brother, who nodded his agreement.

Their procession set out, first down the narrow corridor that Cliffjumper had been forced to stare at for the last megacycle, and journeying through countless more. Autobots within their holding cells observed in great interest as they passed. News must've spread. He'd only overheard a few things from the guards, being in solitary confinement and all.

From what he could tell, what the general public knew about Cliffjumper's arrest was limited, confined only to the tabloids. Most of the government workers, at the least, knew about the mess. (After all, he'd been arrested in the streets.) However, the council was in an uproar because of it. Two possible traitors in their midst was a severe breech of security. Supporters of Sentinel Prime were demanding that he be incarcerated for the reminder of his life. (And, being a Transformer, that probably meant a millennium or more.) Then there were the neutrals. The small percentage of the council that did not take a keen interest in what was going on, merely saw both sides as being complete idiots.

He'd never thought he'd live to hear himself say this, but he was leaning towards the neutrals. Maybe he had made a few mistakes, even committed a crime or two. However the guys up in C.C. were handling this idiotically. They just wanted to make it seem like they were doing something about Shockwave.

They were doing something, alright...and they got the wrong guy.

Cliffjumper glanced up and, suddenly, Wheeljack was approaching them. (Why couldn't anyone take a hint?)

'Remember what we talked about, Cliffjumper?' he asked. 'Just act innocent and you have a chance of winning this. The trial's private, so you'll only be going before the highest ranking Autobots on Cybertron.'

'It is too few,' cut in Jetstorm.

'We will not be signing as many autographs,' complained Jetfire.

'How comforting,' said Cliffjumper. 'I'm gonna get hauled off to the stockades, and you two will be signing autographs.'

'Do not be worrying!' said Jetstorm.

'We give you free one!'

'But if you start acting nervous, the council will think you're guilty,' Wheeljack forcefully continued. 'So, just relax. I...I genuinely believe you're innocent, if it's any consolation. I just hope that the evidence the prosecution has isn't legitimate.'

Well...one supporter was better than none.

'Good luck,' Wheeljack held back as they approached the guarded door. Two security 'bots did a quick sweep of the trio with a scanner, lingering on Cliffjumper for an unnecessarily long amount of time. He glared at the red line traveling up and down his body until it disappeared. The great click of the door announced it being unsealed, to reveal an entirely black, circular room.

Cliffjumper didn't realize he was remaining stationary, until the Jettwins gave him a small nudge. The door slammed behind them. And for a dreadful minute, all that took up the swallowing silence was that of his wildly beating spark. He drew in a shuddering breath.

Winning was easier said than done.

The platform jerked upwards, the walls sank into the ground, and the ceiling slipped away.

Cliffjumper had expected to be hit with shouting, whispering, and general conversation; hundreds upon hundreds of voices overlapping each other in determination of being heard. In reality, he heard a mere handful. But the twenty-something pair of distinctive blue eyes took up the spaces. Cliffjumper knew their faceplates, their names, their functions, had spoken as their ally. Only now he came before them as just the opposite.

He surveyed the double-row seats lining the walls. All were filled with high-ranking 'bots, including Perceptor, Alpha Trion, and Primes working under Ultra Magnus. The one directly in front of them was occupied by Sentinel and Jazz, underneath a screen with the Autobot crest printed in vivid red. The sole source of illumination came from faint florescent lights arching up into the ceiling. Nice and intimidating.

Cliffjumper looked towards the prosecutor's stand, rising up to their left. All three held their heads high, making them appear about twenty times more imposing than they already were. Stance was at the front, taking notes, as usual. The other two he didn't recognize, except...

Mirage.

He must be one of Stance's designated guards. Mirage cocked his head slightly to make eye contact, but then refocused his attention to the front of the room. He was unreadable.

That didn't stop Cliffjumper from staring in pure shock. He wasn't sure if he should feel more betrayed then he already was. But it didn't seem that important any more. It was good to see him. (Though Mirage couldn't escape his demotion from "friend" to "traitorous glitch.")

All eyes switched to Alpha Trion. He rose from his honourary seat to the left of Sentinel Prime. This took a while, seeing as he was ancient. It took another little while as he got his bearings. But when his eyes scrutinized both Stance and Cliffjumper, they were sharp and calculating. It was almost as disturbing as unknowingly working underneath a Decepticon.

'Stance, you may make your opening statement,' he announced in a cracked voice.

Stance practically hopped forwards.

'Agent Cliffjumper, an land agent for Cybertron Intelligence, was arrested fourteen solar cycles ago on suspicion of high treason against Cybertron Command. Further questioning revealed that he may be an informant for our enemies. Following his arrest, Cliffjumper was found to be in possession of one bazooka, five energy cannons, eighteen pistols, one energy sword, two energy daggers, one EMP generator, fifteen grenades, and eight cherry bombs. All of these have been deemed to be illegal weaponry of Decepticon origin. He is also suspected of retaining knowledge from his superiors in regards to the disappearance of Agent Blurr, an Intelligence agent and member of the Elite Guard who, might I add, regularly reported to him.'

'Agent Cliffjumper is a victim of circumstance and coincidence,' a council member objected. 'He has a history of immense loyalty towards the Autobot cause. It is extremely against his character.'

'Yet along with that is a history of violent behaviour.'

'Justified violent behaviour.'

'Are not the Autobots supposed to encourage peace?!' Stance pointed out. 'You claim that Agent Cliffjumper is a victim of circumstance and coincidence. That is not so. Directly before he was arrested, he was seen firing an energy cannon in a public courtyard. An energy cannon is not in Autobot use, because it was initially manufactured by Decepticon scientists! It is a forbidden weapon! Why does he have one?'

'Being in possession of weapons is not illegal!' protested another council member.

'Except if they are manufactured by Decepticons!' said Stance. 'Perceptor; your deductions, please?'

A holographic simulation spontaneously appeared, hovering and gently revolving before the scientist. It was of Cliffjumper's infamous energy cannon.

'It is an out of date style,' narrated Perceptor, adjusting his glasses, 'definitely of Decepticon origin. You can see where the insignia was removed and the repainting of dark purple to red. This particular style's manufacturing was discontinued around the conclusion of the Great War.'

'Older than Agent Cliffjumper, I assume?'

'Yes.'

'How would he acquire it, then?'

'He must have bought it somewhere,' said Perceptor.

'Like?'

Perceptor narrowed his optics. 'Either he salvaged it from a junkyard or he bought it off a dealer of arms.'

'He may have not known that it was manufactured by Decepticons,' argued a council member. 'There is no punishment for ignorance!'

'Ignorance?!' Cliffjumper piped up. (He couldn't help it. He was so sick of being referred to in the third person.) 'The only reason I bought the slagging thing was to kick Decepticon exhaust ports!'

'Ah, so you were aware of its origins?' asked Stance.

'Does it matter where it came from?'

'It does if it's illegal, which it is,' Stance said. 'But this doesn't just apply to the weapons you had on you at the time of your arrest. This also applies to the arsenal of weapons found in your private quarters.'

On queue, Mirage shot him an "I told you so" look.

'Several were of Decepticon origin. What exactly were you planning on using these things for?'

'DEFENSE!'

'Against what?' Stance asked coolly.

'Any fragging thing that stands in my way!'

'Define "things that stand in your way."'

'Decepticons! What else?'

'Oh, perhaps Autobots who threaten your stature or the stature of your superiors,' said Stance.

He became painfully aware of his spark beat, beating harder and quicker with each tense second that passed. Stance was unmoved. But everyone else leaned forwards in anticipation. Sentinel smirked from his supreme seat, where Ultra Magnus should be trying to enforce justice.

'I'd like permission to bring in my witness,' Stance proclaimed. 'Alpha Trion?'

'Do as you please,' said Alpha Trion.

Stance nodded to Mirage. He jumped off the prosecutor's stand and made a beeline for the door. It was barely open before an Autobot entered. He was baring a crest of golden wings.

Rodimus Prime. Cliffjumper instinctively made a small step towards Rodimus. The Jettwins grabbed his shoulders.

Stance gestured for Rodimus to come forwards.

'State your name and function,' Stance ordered.

'Rodimus Prime, head of a Space Bridge security crew,' answered Rodimus.

'Explain the events that took place fourteen solar cycles ago at approximately 1900 hours.'

'I was standing outside the Hall of Records, along with my team mates Brawn and Hot Shot, when Cliffjumper left the building and ran into us. We...got into an argument, during which Hot Shot questioned Cliffjumper's resourcefulness to the Autobot cause. That's when Cliffjumper produced an energy cannon and threatened Hot Shot.'

'And then it fired?'

'Yes. However, nobody was injured and it was an accident.'

It was so _perfectly_ rehearsed. Cliffjumper was surprised that he was surprised. After all, this was _Rodimus_ they were talking about.

'But he did threaten Hot Shot?' asked Stance.

'...Yes.'

'You said it fired accidentally.'

'Brawn knocked it upwards and it fired. Hot Shot was _never_ in any danger to begin with. I don't believe Cliffjumper would –'

'And yet I'm sure you recall first meeting him.'

Rodimus stiffened. 'Well, I'd say that was an isolated incident, and Cliffjumper _was_ roaring drunk when that happened –'

'I had _two_ oils,' Cliffjumper showed two fingers.

'Please, it must've been five.'

'How many did you have?'

'None. I don't drink.'

Cliffjumper snorted and pointed at him. 'Oh, and you're a _saint_!'

'More than I can say for you...'

'_In any case_,' interrupted Stance, 'Cliffjumper is practically _infamous_ for outbursts like this. And we all know of his background prior to attending the Autobot Academy. He was designed for peace keeping along the border of the galaxy, but he was expelled. Yes, he was expelled because of a known _obsession_ with weaponry and violence _and_ because he directly violated the organization's protocols.'

Both Mirage and Rodimus glanced at Cliffjumper, bemused. Cliffjumper cut a finger across his throat.

'Cliffjumper traveled the galaxy back in those days, preaching the word of the Autobot cause,' continued Stance. 'He became highly aware of tight-knit corners of space which are rarely explored, and _perfect_ places for disposing of "sensitive materials." Cliffjumper has visited places where the offline shells of Decepticons and Autobots are destroyed. If he could get away with a crime – _especially_ murder – by all means, he _would_ have the power to do so. Not only that, but isolated areas like that are places where neutrals and Decepticons swarm to attend to illegal activities. It's where bounty hunters like _Lockdown_ are known to gather.'

Again, Mirage and Rodimus looked in Cliffjumper's direction. Cliffjumper smiled sheepishly.

'Lockdown,' said Stance. 'Lockdown, who is known for taking apart Decepticons and Autobots in order to acquire their upgrades, and who is known for selling these upgrades in exchange for weaponry. The cannon confiscated from Cliffjumper, as well as the other weapons found in his possession, all point to one thing. A visitation to or from a dealer of illegal arms. Perceptor and Wheeljack have detected a faint signature on the weapons – an imprint, if you will – which matches signatures on previous weapons that are known to have been in Lockdown's possession. Perhaps Lockdown uses the weapons he sells as tracking devices...and Agent Cliffjumper knows about it.'

Silence.

'You may leave, Rodimus Prime,' said Stance.

Rodimus gladly turned on his heel and headed for the exit. He and Cliffjumper retained eye contact until the dramatic closing of the door announced Rodimus's departure.

'I wouldn't call this solid evidence,' said a council member, upon confirming that Rodimus was gone. 'It just highlights a personality flaw belonging to Cliffjumper. I'm positive that it isn't an uncommon aspect of someone's personality component. A lot of Autobots have violent tendencies, even towards one of their own.'

'And few act on it,' intruded Stance. 'It is common knowledge that Agent Cliffjumper is extremely devoted to his work and his superiors, most notably Longarm Prime. Just how far was he willing to go to serve them? Previous incidents revolve around him confronting Autobots, going as far as attacking, under the orders of his commanders. His mannerisms also suggest that he'll go against custom and break laws. This can easily include all that he is accused of. You speak of personality flaws? Well, here's one. Undying loyalty to Decepticon traitors!'

'Slaggit, unless my boss gave me a good reason to, I'd never attack a fellow Autobot!' Cliffjumper raged.

Wrong wording. Many exchanged terrified looks. His enemies smugly smirked at him. But he refused to waver. Cliffjumper focused on Stance.

'What are you implying?' Stance questioned.

'I'm stating a fact. I'm not implying anything.'

Stance remained silent for a moment. Perhaps building up the tension for his next move. He turned towards Sentinel, and his visor flipped open to reveal his yellow eyes. A holographic screen thereby emanated from those poisonous optics. The Intel office in the Metroplex. Cliffjumper standing in a mess, back to the audience and cleaning out a filing cabinet.

'_Quit _staring_ at me! Are we done yet_?' the red Autobot on the screen snapped.

'W_hen was the last time you saw Agent Blurr_?' asked Stance's disembodied voice.

Frag.

Had he known it was being recorded, he might have chosen his words more carefully. He relived a brief portion of Stance's confrontation. The one centered mainly on Blurr's odd disappearance and how Cliffjumper happened to overlook it. And then, the topic switched to Shockwave. (Slagging traitor.)

He took advantage of this distraction to sneak a glimpse at Mirage. In disbelief, he watched the footage, but they successfully made eye contact. Cliffjumper shook his head. Just barely, nevertheless just enough to get his point through. It was not as it seemed. Stance had been tricking him, having been aware of how he would react. Once more Mirage was unreadable. He could only hope he was considering his innocence.

Stance nonchalantly paused right after the holographic Cliffjumper said: "I got work to do, and you're in the way. OUT." His two-dimensional counterpart was seen with a rather humourous expression of sheer fury, reaching out to grab the unseen interrogator.

It ended with whispering on behalf of every Autobot in the room.

'Now we get to the heart of the matter,' Stance said. 'Agent Cliffjumper, you said that Longarm Prime was very tense in the megacycles before his cover was exposed. "Tense" how?'

'He was reclusive and didn't talk to anyone else much,' said Cliffjumper.

'And what exactly triggered these events? At what moment did you sense that something was completely off-balance with him?'

'...I don't remember.'

'It started when Agent Blurr disappeared,' proclaimed Stance. 'Agent Blurr's energy signature disappeared off of the radar. Then I – personally – and others began to notice the change in his behaviour. It wasn't just Agent Cliffjumper who got suspicious. I have gathered testimonies. I have studied every bit of information that referenced it.' He slapped his datapad to illustrate his point. 'You have been avoiding the one question that is on everyone's mind. Did you kill Agent Blurr?'

'No,' Cliffjumper gripped the railing.

'Do you know what happened to him?'

He opened his mouth, and left it hanging.

'I repeat. Do you know what happened to him?' Stance asked.

Cliffjumper shook his head. 'No.'

'Do you have any _idea_ of what happened to him?'

He sighed. Now or never. 'Right after...when...Look, one day Longarm came back to the office and he had some compacted trash with him,' Cliffjumper rubbed his horn, his other hand supporting his badly shaking body. 'I didn't...Primus, it was so stupid. I should've seen it...He...told me it was just some "sensitive material." The paint job was exactly the same...If it was...He must've run Blurr through the compactor...and then I threw him into the incinerator.'

Several 'bots winced. All except for Stance.

'And that is when he started acting unusually?'

'Yes.'

'Did you know that this...cube...was Blurr?'

'No,' said Cliffjumper, resuming a serious tone. 'I didn't figure it out until after Longarm was exposed. And – And I don't even know if it was him! The paint job was just similar and I thought I saw...some...things...'

'You were suspicious?'

'I thought about it but...it wasn't uncommon for something like that to happen.'

'You mean Longarm handed you the bodies of Autobots all the time?'

'Not true!'

'He – He said he didn't know, so we can't hold him responsible for the death of Blurr,' a council member broke the silence. 'Even if it was him.'

'He admitted to throwing a piece of compacted trash resembling Agent Blurr into the incinerator,' said Stance. 'That, at the least, counts for manslaughter. Everything we've spoken in this courtroom has justified one thing –'

'Let's not jump to conclusions,' interrupted Alpha Trion, leaning forwards. 'There is nothing that indicates that this trash Cliffjumper mentioned is even connected to Agent Blurr. I say we call a recess, investigate, and resume this trial once there is proof.'

'No one could survive that!' snapped Sentinel. 'I'm going to hold Cliffjumper personally responsible for this mess!'

'You cannot do that,' said Perceptor. 'You are not the Magnus, and decisions can't be made without the council in full agreement. And I doubt everyone here shares your views, Sentinel Prime. I agree with Alpha Trion. We should adjourn and hire our best investigators to clear up this matter...especially before the public catches wind of this new development.'

'And if we delay, that'll just give him the chance to escape!' argued Sentinel.

'Does he look like he's going anywhere?' demanded Alpha Trion.

'He's hiding something!'

'Honestly Sentinel, you're supposed to be friends with him!' another council member said.

'I'm not friends with traitors.'

'I agree with Mainframe; this is extremely out of character for Cliffjumper,' the same council member persisted. 'We've all known him for a very long time. He's been working for Cybertron Command since long before Longarm's time. He is not a traitor.'

'I agree with Stance and Sentinel,' yet another Autobot spoke up. 'Cliffjumper's behaviour suggests that he's capable of such a thing. And let's face it, there are previous incidents in his history that support Stance's so-called "theories."'

'His loyalty to Longarm is not –'

'Agent Cliffjumper must remain in custody,' said Stance. 'Autobots in the past have yielded to Decepticons. The war is a prime example of this. Hundreds betrayed us, became informants, and then integrated back into our society once the Decepticons lost. Some of these Autobots were considered the most loyal of their time. And when agents of Cybertron Command investigated, they were found to be in possession of illegal objects and valuable information that could've assisted in the ongoing war. Agent Cliffjumper is a modern example of these events. _He_ was found in possession of Decepticon weapons. _He_ conversed daily with Longarm Prime. _He_ has a history of attacking Autobots. And I do not doubt that he has committed the most nefarious of crimes. _Murder_.'

Cliffjumper immediately pulled himself together.

'I DID NOT KILL BLURR!' Cliffjumper roared.

'You're speaking out of line, "Agent" Cliffjumper,' said Stance, pacing in front of the defendant's stand. 'The proof rests before our very eyes. Your claims of innocence will no longer be –'

Cliffjumper lunged over the railing and bypassed Stance by a mere few inches.

He landed heavily, a primal instinct shouting at him to turn and kill Stance with his bare hands! But two more bodies tackled him lie regular football players. He struggled hopelessly against the grip of the Jettwins, nearly succeeding several times. Stance stood aside. The coward that had caused him this trouble. Every time Cliffjumper managed to momentarily get away, the twins regained control of him. They grunted as he struck back with raging fists.

One such punch hit Jetstorm squarely in the face. He gasped and stumbled backwards. The visor had cracked.

It took the second, unnamed bodyguard of Stance to help Jetfire lift Cliffjumper off the ground.

He screamed incoherently, not caring what he was saying or what it meant, only that today, Stance, Sentinel, and anyone who didn't believe him would die. Jetstorm in their wake, the crew carried him in the direction of the door. Cliffjumper struggled the whole way, kicking wildly in the direction of the stoic brown Autobot.

'LET – ME – GO!' he demanded. 'I DIDN'T KILL BLURR, YOU FRAGGERS!'

It was the last thing Cliffjumper managed to shout before there was a resounding crash and the mass of fighting bodies was out of sight from the council. Stance, still phlegmatic, still acting as though someone hadn't just tried to attack him, turned towards Sentinel Prime. The unworthy Autobot sitting in the Magnus's seat.

'I rest my case,' Stance finished.

'We'll arrange for him to be sent to the stockades straight away,' said Sentinel.

'You're still overlooking the fact,' Alpha Trion exclaimed, 'that there is NO substantial proof that Cliffjumper is either a traitor or a murderer! This is complete injustice, Sentinel, we have to wait until Ultra Magnus comes out of stasis before making a conclusion!

'That's out of line!' said Sentinel. 'I'm acting commander of the Autobots! If you speak out of order again, I'll have you removed from the Council!'

'Sentinel _Prime_!'

'There's no grounds for that! Even Ultra Magnus –'

'Well, guess what, he isn't here!' said Sentinel. 'Stance, with the Council as witnesses, I'm naming you head of Cybertron Intelligence, thereby promoting you to the rank of "Prime."'

'Thank you, Sentinel Magnus.'

'Any protests?'

The emotions in the room varied from outraged to smug. His few – but high-ranking – supporters gave him small smiles. Everyone else glared at him, some of the more temperamental 'bots half-rising out of their seats before being dissuaded by calmer ones.

'Good,' said Sentinel. 'Let's discuss the amount of security we'll need when we're transporting Cliffjumper...'

Nobody noticed Mirage standing in the back of the room. He gave the council a sweeping look, just to make sure that they were too focused on giving Sentinel a hard time. Mirage backed out and gently shut the door behind him.

The grand hallway outside of the council room was elaborately decorated. And eerie silent, aside from some standard security guards at their posts. Mirage put a hand to the wall, rubbing his optics. He could hear the council arguing in the background, as well as the protesting Cliffjumper from afar. But though Mirage heard it, he wasn't listening. His expression was extremely concentrated. Making up his mind.

'Mirage?' Stance, too, crept out of the council chamber. 'I'd like to thank you for your cooperation.'

'I'd like to thank you for letting me be there,' said Mirage.

'You don't seem too pleased about the Council's decision.'

'I'm just...a little unnerved,' Mirage sighed. 'I was hoping that Cliffjumper was telling the truth, but...now I'm having second thoughts.'

'I, personally, am glad,' said Stance. 'You have a lot of potential. Fraternizing with traitors will only inhibit you. Any other fool other than myself would've overlooked how dangerous he is. Cliffjumper has built up a very secure reputation over the years. A lot of Autobots in the Council are reluctant to believe it. It'll be difficult for Sentinel, myself, and others like us to assert ourselves as governors, but we will succeed.'

'I can see that,' Mirage muttered.

Stance placed a hand on his shoulder, the other behind his back to project a dignified image. 'You will be treated well, Mirage. Good job.'

'Congratulations, Stance Prime.'

'I better return,' said Stance. 'Sentinel will be requiring my support. Oh, but I have one more job for you before you leave...First "official" one, anyways. Go check up on Ultra Magnus's status and report to me afterwards.'

'Sir,' Mirage saluted him.

Mirage went past Stance and kept walking until he sensed that he was gone. He stopped out in the main corridor of the Metroplex, amongst fellow Autobots, catching wind of conversations revolving around Cliffjumper's arrest and Ultra Magnus's condition. All rumours. Then they fell silent as a horrendous shout emanated from the direction opposite of where Mirage was supposed to go.

Several crashes.

Silence. The general chatter resumed with an edge. Mirage seemed to make a decision, and pushed his way through the crowd.


	5. Invisible Man

**Chapter Five  
****Invisible Man**

'Please be grabbing his other arm!'

'I'm trying to! If he just stopped – OUCH!'

'You be wanting my help?'

'Nope, we've got him! Hey...Hey, HEY! CAN SOMEONE HELP US OUT WITH THIS LUNATIC?!'

Someone very heavy slammed Cliffjumper to the ground. He struggled to straighten himself, sparks flying as he scrapped his feet desperately across the floor. His silence was worse than his screams of protest. But despite his terrified aura, the guard pressed both hands on the back of his neck in an effective maneuver of keeping him secure.

After catching his breath, Jetfire took his other arm and they lifted him. Cliffjumper tried to elbow him with no success.

Yes, he was making a nightmarish situation even worse. Yes, the jailer and several other passers-by were watching this darkly amusing sight. Yes...it was in Cliffjumper's best interest to try and remain calm. But he couldn't pretend this wasn't bothering him anymore. So when he was on his feet, he fought against his captor's restrictive hands.

'I told you already, I didn't do a fragging thing!' Cliffjumper exclaimed, upon realizing that his physical attacks were in vain.

'Shut up! Deny it all you want! It ain't gonna make us go easier on you!' The guard that had been ruthlessly pinning him down handed control over to Jetstorm. (Though this wasn't exactly the best idea. The second Jettwin's damaged visor was inhibiting his balancing skills.) He examined the dents in his arms, then turned to the jailer. 'Gad...Did you see what that maniac did to me? Wish they could ship him off to the stockades today and be done with it.'

'I can do a lot worse than that!' shouted Cliffjumper.

'Mr. Cliffjumper,' said Jetstorm, 'it is better idea if you come quietly.'

'Fat fragging chance! I didn't do a SLAGGING THING! YOU HEAR ME?! I DIDN'T KILL BLURR!'

'Quit trying to reason with him, Jetstorm. And for the love of Primus, somebody grab some stasis cuffs.'

Cliffjumper turned his head at the sound of light, hurried footsteps coming from the direction they'd just traveled from. He turned his head, his mouth agape as Mirage came charging towards them, skidding to an stop in front of him. His eyes were furious and distraught.

'What were you thinking?!' Mirage demanded. 'You just landed yourself in the stockades! I hope you're happy! What the slag is Sentinel thinking?!...No, he must not be thinking at all! Just like you!'

'I told the truth!'

'You think the Council cares about truth?! They only care about EVIDENCE! Why didn't you tell me about the piece of trash or your suspicions or –'

'Because there was no evidence! And – excuse me – you were the one who first helped arrest me, _then_ call me a traitor!

'Slaggit, Cliffjumper, this isn't the time!' screamed Mirage. 'Now it's too late to get out of here unless I make an appeal for you! Do you think Sentinel's going to allow that?! After there's been widespread support of your arrest and – and Stance has already given convincing evidence?!' He slapped his forehead. 'Slaggit, Cliffjumper, I'm _going to get fired_ for talking to you, right now! There goes my villa!'

'I go to the stockades, you clean out your desk,' growled Cliffjumper. 'Wanna trade?'

Mirage's expression softened somewhat. 'There's nothing more I can do until Ultra Magnus comes back into power...and he may not.'

Cliffjumper didn't like the way he said that.

'I'll do what I can,' said Mirage. 'Just...stay _put_, okay?'

Still muttering underneath his breath, Mirage turn on his heel and stocked off. Cliffjumper shook his head, turning his attention back to the jailer reviewing the record just given to him by the Jettwins.

The road ahead didn't look promising. They stood at the mouth of an intimidating hall, with energy barriers on either side, backed up by enormous, five-inch solid steel doors. Twenty-five in total. Sound proof. Escape proof. Two guards at every block and heat and motion sensors monitoring the activities of the inmates. Microscopic security cameras kept an eye on the darkest of corners. It was the most secure holding facility on all of Cybertron. These cells were actually quite roomy, considering the circumstances. The stockades were...less than comfortable, as Cliffjumper could vaguely recall. (He'd blocked out ninety percent of what he'd seen when he last inspected the place.)

He was escorted to the fourth one on their left. The Jettwins had to push him, as he decided to use the "stubborn protoform" method of resistance.

'We will back for him very soon,' said Jetstorm, looking a little to the left of the jailer. 'Mr. Sentinel has to be arranging for transport.'

'And we want to visit some old friends –'

'Mr. Perceptor and Mr. Wheeljack –'

'So they can be fixing his visor.'

'Why would I want that?' asked Jetstorm. 'We are triplets now, so we can kick more Decepticon plates of the tail!'

'_Just_,' the jailer began sharply, 'get back here soon. I don't want him in here for long.'

'We be getting it,' the Jettwins grinned.

'Brother, would you care to be doing the honour?' Jetfire inquired.

'No, no, please be going ahead,' said Jetstorm. 'I insist!'

Cliffjumper very nearly went head-over-heels into the cell. The urge to kill returned, twice as powerful, blocking out all that remained of his common sense.

Upon his rough landing, he spun around and dived for one of the Jettwin's throats. But instead he got a head-on collision with the door that had appeared out of no where. He rebounded back into the darkness. It didn't stop him from repeatedly attacking the sole exit, swinging his fists in a continuous, very painful motion.

The blows he was giving the door hurt him more than it hurt it. His hands throbbed after the first few punches. But he did not stop. He had to prove to those glitches that he wasn't about to accept his fate, that he was going to _fight_ them until someone fell!

It took several minutes until he was forced to back off.

_You're not getting to me!_ he thought. Cliffjumper panted heavily and hit it again. Grunting, he retreated a little further back. Okay, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Think of something else.

The cell, itself, was seven feet in all directions. (He remembered this from the report he'd read.) Florescent lights lined the corners. Ventilation was...well, he didn't remember how they managed the room temperature. The walls were reinforced, as was the door. Surely he couldn't leave without setting off an alarm.

Everything had a weakness. He just had to find it. Cliffjumper began to feel the walls in search of a defect, though his sensors contradicted the possibility of another way out. But until he did discover the escape that did not exist, he really was stuck in this hell hole.

'No,' Cliffjumper muttered to his brain. There was always a weak point.

* * *

Cliffjumper leaned against the door, rhythmically lifting his fist to hit it. This produced a small clang, the only noise he was able to hear. A pointless act of protest. But it was comforting.

Unfortunately, with every weak punch, came another thought.

Thump. _Blurr_.

Thump. _Traitor_.

Thump. _Out_.

It'd been going on for what felt like stellar cycles. To the observer, he must look absolutely pathetic. This was all he could do until they opened the door and he was permitted to resume attacking Autobots. But they'd probably get smart; they'd have stasis cuffs prepared, their brilliant soldiers ready to tackle him. Any other long-term prisoner would advise him to give up. Yet Cliffjumper was determined to hold on to his sanity. He'd hold on to it until he completed the mission he'd assigned to himself.

Truly, this was the first time he had really considered Blurr and what had happened to him. Was Sentinel right? Was he responsible for the chaos now enveloping Cybertron? Or had his own stupidity (devotion?) led him to overlook the fact that "Longarm Prime" had always been hiding something?

He'd prided himself with being loyal to the Autobot cause and anyone above him. But maybe it was more of a flaw than an upside. Than again, the observant Blurr was also loyal to the Autobots. Maybe, some thousands of years into the future, this incident would be regarded as a turning point in their history. Proclamations of loyalty isn't enough to be one of the good guys. They had to prove it.

Slaggit, he was beginning to sound like Rodimus. Blurr would know how to –

Cliffjumper sighed. It was way too quiet in here, he was beginning to hear himself think!

He got to his feet and pressed his body against the door, attempting to sense the activities of the free Autobots. He roughly estimated that he'd been in here nearly a megacycle, a harrowing amount of time. The stockades would contact Sentinel very soon and announce that they were ready to receive their new inmate.

He had to get away before that happened. If they were distracted enough during the transportation process, he could slip away. A split second might give him the chance he needed. Or maybe brute force would be the thing...

The surface he'd been leaning on suddenly slid away.

Cliffjumper let out a small cry of surprise, outstretching his arms to brace himself. Instead, he ran in to what he recognized as one of the guards; completely perturbed and not registering his apparent escape for a full nanoclick. (Neither did Cliffjumper.)

Finally, the guard seemed to find his voice. 'PRISONER ESC –'

Cliffjumper clobbered him, enough force to floor him. He checked that there were no other guards present, spotting them in the entrance of the cell block.

They were looking around in utter alarm. One gave an unexpected cry of pain, doing a somersault like someone had just hit him – hard – over the head. The other activated his stingers and swung at the air in randomized motions, however not before his body began to jerk. His head tilted back, his spine arching, and he was slammed to the ground by...nothing.

Blinking, Cliffjumper's pupils darted to the bodies and in the other direction. There was no one else in sight, except for these three. He pieced together what was happening.

'...Mirage?' he asked, uncertainly.

Mirage materialized near the Autobots, still in a fighting stance. 'Let's go! We have to get out of here!'

Despite his confusion, Cliffjumper did not hesitate. The pair sprinted away from the scene. A red light flashed all around them, while in the distance a faint alarm was going off. There was a great deal of shouting from the upper levels.

'You know, when you said you were going to "do what you could," this wasn't what I had in mind,' said Cliffjumper. '...Not that I'm complaining. And I thought you didn't believe me!'

'I don't, but I'm giving you a chance to prove me wrong,' said Mirage. '...Besides, they wouldn't accept my bribe, so I had to do it the hard way.'

'Well, what's with all this?! Where the Pits is everybody?!"

They skidded to a halt before a lift. Mirage pushed him inside, followed, and furiously began to type on the keypad once the doors sealed.

'I...I triggered an emergency lock down of this building,' explained Mirage, looking guilty. 'It's only been used three times in the history of Autobots. Once in the Great war. Once when Shockwave blew his own cover. And now when the "other" traitor Cliffjumper somehow managed to escape from high-security holding cells.'

'What?! You're letting me out?! I wanted to do that myself!'

'"Gee, Mirage, thanks for helping me to escape, you're such a great friend!"'

'If you're such a "great friend," how come you left me to defend myself?! I could've used some support from someone high up!'

'It's politics, Cliffjumper!'

'Another lame excuse from Mirage the Airhead! I think all of that invisibility scrap is making your brain disappear!'

'WE DON'T HAVE TIME FOR THIS, GLITCH-HEAD!' Mirage hollered.

The lift jerked upwards at top speed, knocking down both Mirage and Cliffjumper. Pressure set in around his head, but despite the discomfort he tried to count the number of turns they were making. What in the Pits did Mirage think he was doing?

'I don't want help!' yelled Cliffjumper.

'Listen, you aren't going to get away without any help, whether you like it or not!' snapped Mirage. 'Sentinel has...or rather, _had_ this place on high alert when you locked you in that cell. He's got Jazz looking up the toughest Autobots in the Elite Guard to escort you to the stockades. The only way out is through the Space bridge nexus, and the codes to activate it are encrypted.'

'I can break codes, easy. What the frag did you think they were teaching us in the Autobot Academy?'

'No chance. They've been "Shockwave-proofed."'

'Slaggit.'

They came to an abrupt halt and opened to reveal a deserted corridor. Both Mirage and Cliffjumper peered around the corners. Still no one. The alarm was louder here. The shouting had faded. He recognized this place, though it had been a long time since he'd visited the engineering section. The air had a distinctive, humid taste to it, while perfectly matching that his musky surroundings. Pipeline along the ceiling fizzed out steam. He could feel and hear the vibrations of the main power generator.

After assuring that it safe, Mirage exited. Cliffjumper followed only after debating whether or not he had an alternative.

'Disgusting place,' Mirage murmured. 'You'd think they'd clean up a bit...'

'Let me guess, just like an idiot you just remembered that you didn't disable the security cameras,' said Cliffjumper.

'Perceptor's taking care of that,' Mirage coolly replied. They both transformed into vehicle mode and sped towards their destination.

'"Perceptor?" As in "High Council member," Mr. "I-deleted-my-emotions" Perceptor? How'd you get him to help out? He wouldn't willingly go against the Magnus, even if it is Sentinel!'

'I used simple logic,' chuckled Mirage. 'He said he could stall them thirty cycles, tops, and blame the "malfunction" on the lock down. That's why you need to pick up the pace. The nexus will be inoperable and the cameras will be on by the end of the allotted time...Besides, Perceptor wouldn't take my bribe, which I suppose is a bit of a relief.'

'I see, and how are you going to explain the nexus being in use right now?'

They were now approaching the doorway that promised him freedom. After resuming their robot modes, Mirage grinned widely.

'I thought you could break any code,' he winked. Mirage raised a hand, once more swiveling his head around. 'Mirage to Peceptor. Is the nexus clear?'

'_Affirmative, Mirage_,' said Perceptor's voice. '_The coordinates have been programmed into the system. All that is required of you is to activate it. I recommend you do this quickly. Sentinel Prime is beginning to ask questions, and I have the impression that he is planning to send a squadron to patrol the area regardless of the lock down_.'

'That's just keen. I'll meet you later. Mirage out.'

'_Unsealing doors_.'

The doors slid open. Mirage and Cliffjumper raced out into the open, underneath a dark purple sky, and in the shadow of the intimidating fork-shaped Space Bridges. He stared for a minute, checking for intruders. But his companion grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the shadow of the nearest portal, the identification code "100-001" printed on one of its steeples.

'We don't have much time,' said Mirage. 'Perceptor's given the coordinates for a place on the border of Sector 8400.7, right outside of the main stretch of Autobot territory. There's no bases, no outposts, no Space Bridges for light-years, so you're pretty much on your own. I wasn't able to get you any weapons. No doubt Sentinel's going to launch a huge bothunt for you. Just stay away from Autobot territory and I'll send word once I get an update on Ultra Magnus.'

'So you're exiling me?' asked Cliffjumper, as casually as though he was making a comment on the weather.

Mirage was speechless for a minute.

'...You're...you're being a sent away for your own safety,' said Mirage.

'My own safety?!' he exclaimed. 'I don't need protection!'

'Cliffjumper, I think you just try to lay low for a while. Think of this as a vacation.'

'No, I'm going to find Blurr,' decided Cliffjumper.

'Aw, slag, not this again,' Mirage rubbed his optics. 'Blurr's probably dead.'

'Probably dead. But there's no evidence. I'm gonna have to find it myself.'

'You're wasting your time.'

'You complete hypocrite!' Cliffjumper shouted. 'You told me that you were giving me the chance to prove that I was innocent! Find Blurr, prove my innocence!'

'They'll still think you tried to kill him! At the least! Not to mention you're still in trouble for all of those illegal weapons you had!'

'It won't matter,' Cliffjumper peered up at the looming Space Bridge. 'Activate it.'

Mirage gave him a sturdy, hateful look. 'You're so stupid. Look, if you want to go ahead and waste the rest of your pathetic life on some hopeless mission that will accomplish _nothing_, go right ahead! I'm not stopping you! But for Primus's sake, don't let me regret this. I don't want to find out that you've been captured by Decepticons or Autobots or you've gotten involved in some –'

'Now would be a good time, Mirage,' interrupted Cliffjumper. 'Activate the Space Bridge. Knowing Sentinel, a whole army will be here pretty soon.'

He looked like he was about to protest and continue his rant, however seemed to think better of it. Mirage transformed and headed to the control panel situated on the far side of the clearing. (All the while using vulgar language to describe Cliffjumper's ultimate goals.) But Cliffjumper was already scaling the metallic slope separating him from the Space ridge.

He scurried onto level ground, taking a moment to admire the view. The Space Bridges was like the woodlands he'd read about. Mirage and Cliffjumper had just exited the bulky doors so often used by the engineers and further connected to the lower levels and compactor...Oh slag.

'Ready!' Mirage called.

Cliffjumper forced himself to examine the ladder that ascended the length of the Space Bridge. Seemed safe enough. Engineers did this all day, and so he could too. He began his treacherous climb, looking down only to check how Mirage was doing. The invisible 'bot was watching, but also kept inspecting the control panel.

Halfway to the top, Cliffjumper felt that he was at a great enough distance to easily fall into the transwarp energy he expected to appear. He tried to soothe his uneasy spark. The sense that an unwarranted somebody was approaching their location kept his impatience fresh.

The blue field grew out of nothingness. It swelled to twice his size, the electricity being felt throughout his body. Its warmth wasn't the pleasant kind. More like a threatening, floating ball of magma desiring to swallow him whole.

Cliffjumper only just remembered how much he hated going through Space Bridges.

'What are you waiting for, already?' Mirage exclaimed via the com link.

He prepared to jump.

Something grazed right above his head. Instinctively he pulled himself closer to the Space Bridge. Two arrows had shot straight into the metal. One minute nonexistent, the next stiffly hitting it with the force of Blurr running into a wall at 1000 miles per hour. Far below him, Rodimus Prime crept out from behind a Space Bridge opposite of the clearing. Hot Shot was scrambling through the doors leading to the dreaded compactor. Cliffjumper looked down to see Brawn gripping the bottom of the ladder.

'Cliffjumper!' Rodimus shouted. 'Come down from there! It's over!'

'Wait! if you just list –' Mirage took a step towards Rodimus before Hot Shot dramatically tackled him to the ground.

Cliffjumper grabbed the arrow right above his head, still warm from its high speed travel through thin air. He hurtled it. The control panel spontaneously exploded, and a sphere of Transwarp energy appeared right beside him, as it did with every Space Bridge the panel had connected to.

Their blue glow illuminated the courtyard, distracting Rodimus and Hot Shot.

Brawn's hand missed Cliffjumper's ankle by an inch.

A great, blue light swallowed him. He made sure to smirk at the befuddled Rodimus before dropping into the field.


	6. Cliffjumper and the Deadly Sins

**Chapter Six  
****Cliffjumper and the Deadly Sins**

Cliffjumper hurtled past voices and places totally unfamiliar to him, through a liquid that swallowed his entire body. He tried to wipe it off. No success. Pressure mounted around his head and some mist began to cloud his vision. As far as the physical world was concerned, he did not exist. All of all the report's he'd read on Space Bridges malfunctions weighed down the sheer terror in his spark.

He'd been through Space Bridges only a few times before, and never when he wasn't on a ship. Did it always last this long? He knew it shouldn't. The duration of the ride was far too lengthy to be normal. Oh, Primus, he must be stuck in here! They'd find nothing but his shell! He'd be another helpless victim to a matter transporter!

With an electric zap, it ended.

Cliffjumper was falling.

He let out a cry of surprise. So sudden was his appearance in these foreign surroundings that he didn't have time to brace for impact. He landed like a falling comet. Dust and rock wrapped him in a protective cocoon, mixing alongside the earth-shattering blast. Vibrations rolled up from his feet to his head. His optics momentarily bailed on him, leaving him blind, shaking, and trying to remember how he'd gotten here.

After a few horrifying cycles, Cliffjumper stumbled to his feet. No more Space Bridges for him.

He rubbed his temple and climbed out of the rough crater formed upon his collision. Well, he was covered head-to-toe in dirt. His movements were understandably stiff and it ached to even lift a finger. But he wasn't heading towards the stockades. One upside.

Cliffjumper vaguely waved away the dust, coughing to get it out of his systems. He pried his eyes open and immediately got another headache.

The Autobot examined his surroundings. Asteroid. Probably part of the belt that marked the edge of Autobot territory. A star glared overhead, heating the earth on which he kneeled. He covered his optics to try and see what class. No, it was too bright, but that did suggest that he was way out of Cybertron scanner range. To his immediate right, the ground slopped upwards to a series of highlands. His left, a grand valley stretching on for a good ten kilometers. But it kept gong...and going...endless. He'd never been in a place so bleak. If he didn't know better, he'd say he wasn't where he was supposed to be.

What if he was lost?

Cliffjumper had heard stories of Autobots going into Space Bridges and ending up being stranded in other galaxies. Like Optimus's crew! What if he was deep in Decepticon territory?! And here he stood, completely unarmed for such an expedition!

He got his feet and staggered around in a circle, trying to get his bearings.

Cliffjumper checked his internal systems. Energy reserves were depleted. Probably just enough to put him into emergency stasis. No weapons, of course. Navigations...Wait, he'd traded in that program...If he really was in Decepticon territory, he was so slagged.

'That's just great,' Cliffjumper muttered. 'THANKS A LOT, MIRAGE!'

His voice echoed lonesomely back to him.

Still cursing underneath his breath, Cliffjumper began to hike up the hillside. He would start from there. Try and figure out how he was going to get back to familiar grounds. Once he did that, he could start searching for Blurr. What he'd decided megacycles ago withstood.

The incinerator had been inoperable at the time he threw the...cube...in there. They would've transported all junk deep underground to be incinerated at a later date. Standard waste management. Though he didn't handle those files, basically everyone who worked for Cybertron Command knew this. Not that they cared, but right now, it was all that Cliffjumper could think about. But what if the day Blurr had been labeled as trash something had changed? Maybe Shockwave revealing himself had altered the circumstances, and it didn't go out as scheduled, or to the right place.

This was his only lead.

So, the way Cliffjumper saw it, he somehow had to get _back_ to Cybertron, get underground, and dig through garbage looking for Blurr.

..._Question is_, he thought, looking around at the barren asteroid, _how the Pits am I going to get back?_

* * *

The Decepticon warship reminded him of the corpse of an organic he'd once found. Mangled, soaked in its own blood. Dying slowly. Meanwhile, its idealistic planet went on. In the warmth of the meadow, he – a autonomous robotic organism – stood watching this unusual phenomena, however slowly it may come. Its own mother could see it and not recognize it as its offspring. Cliffjumper wasn't even sure of its initial appearance.

The warship was like that. It fascinated and horrified him.

Cliffjumper shook out of the memory. Later.

It had become apparent that he wasn't the first Transformer to come to this asteroid, though it was just as apparent he was the first _Autobot_. Cliffjumper climbed throughout the contorted structure. Well, even if he knew a lick about _repairing_ an entire ship, he doubted he'd be able to find the right materials. Even the escape pods were completely slagged. Besides, there was a huge hole in the side of the ship! What was he supposed to do about that?!

Sighing, Cliffjumper kicked aside some of the spare debris knocked across the field. There had to be _something_ here that would be of some use to him.

Historical tapes. Useless.

Big piece of metal with the Decepticon insignia on the side. He quickly flipped it over so he didn't have to look at it.

A servo. Hopefully it came from a Decepticon.

What were these? Flickering datapads with...maps? Well, it _might_ come in handy, but considering what he want to –

Cliffjumper paused.

What was that noise?

It sounded suspiciously like jets. But before Cliffjumper could ponder it further, the ground shuddered. Cliffjumper fell right over, then suddenly he was begin dragged and lifted into the air.

Hovering a good ten feet off the ground, he leaned forwards to examine the one who had caught him by the foot.

'My superior intellect has defeated another measly Autobot!' proclaimed the 'bot. Except that it wasn't a 'bot. The Decepticon insignia reflected in the limited lighting, overwhelmed by a blue paint job.

(Upon reflection, he looked a lot like the Decepticon Starscream, who Cliffjumper had yet to meet. But...he wasn't.)

One thing _was_ certain, however. It was a 'Con.

'PUT ME DOWN YOU FRAGGING DECEPTICON!' Cliffjumper swung his fists wildly. 'Wait until I get down from here! I'm going to kick your aft!'

'Oh! Oh! Get it away!' cried a second voice. Cliffjumper took a quick look around and spotted yet another Starscream lookalike, only this one with a pale purple paint job.

Cliffjumper snarled. This Starscream clone ducked behind the first.

'Ha! An Autobot is no match for my superior weapons!' cackled the egotistical one.

'We'll see about that!' Cliffjumper shouted.

'Maybe we just better let it go,' whimpered the coward.

'Yeah, you _should_! You wanna piece of me?!'

'No! No! Have mercy!'

'Thundercracker! Skywarp!'

Slaggit, more Decepticons?! Cliffjumper twisted his body, glaring at the approaching vehicle. He recognized the altmode at once; a truly unique tripodal motorcycle. The 'Con wasn't alone. Behind him was a six-wheeler, dwarfing her companion in comparison. He recognized this one, too.

When the 'Cons transformed, the motorcycle transformed into the lanky figure of Oil Slick. Too many files of 'bots being experimented on by this guy swarmed before his mind. The second – a femme, despite her hideous appearance – was Strika. These two were part of the team that had laid siege on Iacon and had taken Team Rodimus hostage. It had been right before Shockwave had blown his cover.

And he wasn't about to go down without a fight.

'LEMME AT 'EM!' he shouted, kicking Thundercracker's foot.

'...What is that?' Oil Slick asked.

'I'll tell you what it is!' yelled Cliffjumper. 'It's one ANGRY Autobot, and guess who's gonna pay for it?! I dare you all to face me in a fair fight! C'mon and try me!'

'I fought this inferior Autobot for three solar cycles, before I finally managed to defeat him using my brilliant tactical skills!' lied Thundercracker.

'Sure you did,' sneered Oil Slick. He leaned in to stare Cliffjumper in the faceplate.

Cliffjumper punched him. Of course, his fist was no match for Oil Slick's practically indestructible helmet. (Of course, Skywarp seemed to find this quite terrifying, and continued to cower behind Thundercracker.) The Decepticon blinked lazily, before straightening himself and regarding Cliffjumper like he was an interesting piece of trash.

'This is an interesting turn of events,' remarked Oil Slick. 'How do you suppose it got here?'

'I'll tell you how I'm getting out!' Cliffjumper yelled, attempting to swing at Thundercracker.

'Bah, who cares?' scoffed Strika.

'Well...what should we do with him?'

'I do not care, just _get rid _of him.'

'I suppose he could amuse us,' Oil Slick grabbed Cliffjumper by the ankle and waved him at Skywarp. The latter screamed and took off running across the plain. 'Than again, Autobots become uncooperative with time, so it might last for long...We _could_ take him back to New Kaon.'

'You heard Megatron. We stay here until further notice.'

Cliffjumper snapped his head in her direction.

'That didn't stop Cyclonus from taking off; Primus knows where he is, now,' said Oil Slick. 'If my laboratory was still in operation...'

'Just feed him to Spittor and be done with it!'

'Woah, _feed_?!' Cliffjumper started. 'Put me down, ya fragging 'Con!'

'Whatever you say, Autobot,' Oil Slick smirked. 'Spittor! Dinner!'

He tossed Cliffjumper.

Cliffjumper flew a few hundred yards, hitting the ground with the force of a torpedo. Pain shot up his side. But at the moment, he had the feeling that there was more to worry about than personal discomfort. The ground shook violently with the force of some_thing_ running towards him at top speed. He got to his feet, reaching for a weapon. (Swearing when he remembered that he didn't _have_ anything on him! He was going to kill Sentinel.)

The Autobot barely had time to look up before he spotted a bipedal, monstrous Decepticon casting a gloomy shadow over him. Spittor licked his lips. A trio of metallic, slimy tongues shot out of his mouth, wrapped around Cliffjumper's waist, and sucked him inside before he even had time to swear like crazy.


	7. Her Own Kind

**Chapter Seven  
****Her Own Kind**

Strika was _very_ annoyed at the moment.

Actually, that was probably the biggest understatement of this century. To say that she was annoyed roughly translated to "I'm stuck on an asteroid full of a bunch of lunatics and I got pulled away from fighting Autobots due to an irrational order made by our leader _and_ for _some strange reason_ Megatron feels _inclined_ to keep everyone else in the dark." Not only that, but for some other unspecified reason, Shockwave was being awfully furtive. But who knows his reason for _that_; Shockwave always had been the furtive one. Not that she knew him all that well, nor did she want to know him. Lugnut said he was a complete suck up to glorious Megatron and she couldn't _stand_ suck ups.

Well, to put it simply, she was still annoyed. Cyclonus was gone. Blackout was out _lost_ somewhere. And these two "Starscream clones" were annoying the slag out of her. But until her two missing team members graced her with their appearance, they'd have to do for adequate replacements.

'What are you doing?'

Strika felt another tinge of her now characteristic annoyance. 'What does it matter to you, Oil Slick? Go do your chemistry experiments!'

'I can't,' said Oil Slick. 'If you'd let me keep that Autobot, it might have given me something to do, but seeing as it's now digesting in Spittor...'

'Well, you should have_ said_ something.'

Oil Slick scowled, disinterested. Obviously this renowned boredom wasn't just limited to her.

However, hanging out in the wreckage of the Decepticon warship gave her _some_ source of comfort. She admitted that she missed New Kaon – missed _Lugnut_, though Primus help her if she ever said that to his face. The company of other Decepticons was something one came to hate when there was only one local Decepticon that was sensible. And he was a chemistry freak. (What did Decepticons need with chemistry, anyways? Answer: nothing.) But aside from Oil Slick's frivolous pursuits, she figured that she'd better avoid blowing him up. He seemed to be the only one that Thundercracker, Skywarp and Spittor listened to.

Somehow, that didn't seem like a good arrangement. She'd have to work on being more terrifying.

Strika attempted her communications system again. 'Strika to Shockwave.'

'He won't answer,' proclaimed Oil Slick.

'You keep your opinions to yourself!' Strika raged.

'Alright, but I'm just stating a well-known fact. Shockwave. Won't. Answer. What do you think _I've_ been doing since we lost contact with him and the rest of those high-ranking idiots? Oh wait...your _consort_ is one of those high-ranking idiots.'

For once, she had to agree. Not that she'd ever admit that. Instead, she turned her back on Oil Slick and attempted to establish contact, yet again.

When all she got was a dead signal, Strika swung around and punch the nearest support beam. The frail roof sheltering them wavered violently in the force of her strike.

'Anger,' chimed Oil Slick.

Strika cracked her knuckles and turned on him. 'If you want to be useful, maybe you can go see what those two stupid clones are doing!'

'It wasn't my idea to keep them in the first place.'

'Nor was it mine!'

'That's right. They just won't stop following us...and guess whose fault it is for not crushing those two the moment they showed up? I mean, Starscream's pretty much been dubbed a traitor, now. I'm sure Megatron won't complain if two of his clones are destroyed.'

'I don't see you doing anything about it!'

'Please. I used the last of my Cosmic Rust on that Autobot back on Iacon. I've had neither the time nor the materials to construct chemical weapons. I repeat, if you'd let me keep that Autobot...'

'THAT IS NOT MY PROBLEM, YOU –'

'_Shockwave to Team Chaar_.'

She froze, fist raised.

It was _about slagging _time.

Strika rushed back to the console, using the various old-fashioned dials to adjusted the picture. Soon, the hollow face of Shockwave appeared on the screen. It flickered slightly, but his voice came through loud and clear.

'Where _are_ you?!' demanded Strika. 'We have not heard a peep from Megatron since he ordered us to fall back! What exactly is going on over there?!'

'_There's been a change of plans_,' explained Shockwave. '_Megatron has obtained Omega Supreme, however he is unable to reactivate him. Blitzwing, as well as two Starscream clones, have been arrested by Cybertron Command._'

'Lugnut...?'

_'His location is unknown, but he was supposed to be on the same Autobot ship as Blitzwing. Apparently he was left drifting in space_.'

Strika growled. Never mind. She'd worry later. 'What are our orders?'

'_Remain inconspicuous and stand by_.'

Strika glared at Shockwave. Shockwave _seemed_ to glare right back.

'...THAT IS IT?! WE HAVE BEEN WAITING SOLAR CYCLES FOR THAT!'

'_For the moment, Megatron is hoping to remain subtle._'

'You think staying on this asteroid is being subtle?!' Strika demanded. 'Just today, an Autobot showed his ugly face around here! How long do you think it will be when more Autobots follow?! And what did you do to help us?! You blew your cover! Now we do not have a Decepticon on the inside!'

'..._An Autobot? Out there?_'

Strika exchanged a look with Oil Slick.

'_What did he look like?_' demanded Shockwave.

'What does it matter?!' yelled Strika. 'All Autobots look alike!'

'_I need to see him._'

'Why?!'

'_Don't ask, just do._'

'Well...' said Oil Slick. 'I certainly hope Spittor hasn't digested him, yet...SPITTOR!'

Strika winced at the name. Disgusting creature. She looked towards the horizon, where soil was kicked up in the wake of the Decepticon. Or was he even a Decepticon? To her, he was just a horrendous creature that shouldn't have been made in the first place. Spittor charged towards them at top speed, the acidic smell becoming stronger as he neared.

Spittor skidded to a stop before Oil Slick.

'That Autobot you ate,' said Oil Slick, 'have you digested it, yet?'

Spittor made a series of clicks. Even those were disgusting.

'Good. Spit him out.'

She rubbed her optics as Spittor resumed speaking in his unusual tongue.

'Well, if he's giving you a fuel tank ache, that's all the more reason to spit him out,' Oil Slick folded his arms. 'Now do it.'

Spittor's eyes flashed.

His mouth opened. A mass of orange and yellow slime flew across the brief clearing, hitting the side of the Decepticon ship. Strika didn't see the body of the Autobot at first. It took until the Autobot slid back down to the ground that it was clearly recognizable as a living being, though obviously this living being was in a state of shock. The Autobot – once red – was covered in Spittor's acidic drool. Though his eyes were wide open, they were also unseeing.

The Autobot didn't even fight when Strika roughly grabbed him from the back of his neck, shook off some of the spit, and held him up to Shockwave.

'_Ah,_' said Shockwave. '_I thought so. His name is Cliffjumper. Under my guise of Longarm, he served as my...personal assistant. The Autobots suspect _him_ of being the traitor, however, and he managed to escape just yesterday._'

'What use is he to us?' demanded Strika.

'_Cliffjumper – as a matter of fact – is a _very_ useful Autobot. We could easily use him as a bargaining tool. I'm certain that Cybertron Command will be desperate to get him back into their custody._'

'A lure, you mean?'

'_Precisely. Keep him alive. I will contact you with further instructions later_. _As for Megatron, I can assure you that your team won't be idle for long. Shockwave out_.'

Strika glared at the screen. In one hand, the stunned Autobot. Her other curled back into a tight, shaking fist.

She thrust the Autobot at Oil Slick's feet. 'Get that _thing_ out of my sight!' Strika glared at Spittor. 'Both of them!'

Oil Slick seemed uninterested in arguing. Neither was Strika. But she was certain that as long as they kept that slagging Autobot away from her – a reminder of the faction that kept them trapped on this asteroid – she'd be alright.

She just hoped that _Lugnut_ was alright.


	8. When Life Gives You A Plasma Dynamic Thr

**Chapter Eight  
****When Life Gives You A Plasma Dynamic Thruster...**

Cliffjumper had given up on using brute force to overpower his Decepticon captors. He needed a new strategy. But he couldn't very well do that when Oil Slick kept _staring_ at him; again with the impression that he considered the Autobot to be nothing more than an interesting piece of trash. He was sure this is how every Decepticon viewed Autobots, except that, collectively, they were trash that bit the hand that threw them out.

So, instead of physically resisting the Decepticons, he tried the protoform's method of resistence.

He sat on a rock and looked annoyed.

For now, this was the best plan he could think of. Besides, he figured it made a good disguise while he tried to think of something a little more creative.

Truth was, he didn't exactly _recall_ how he'd come to be out of Spittor's digestive system, though he recalled punching the innards of that 'Con as hard as he could. (Probably the reason _why_ he'd spat him out.) All in all, he was just thankful to not be dissolving into bits. (He shuddered at the thought.) Now the Decepticons seemed bent on keeping him their live prisoner. He would rather they killed him, though preferably not by Spittor's method.

On the other servo, it wasn't as though he couldn't just give up and let them kill him. He had to get back to Cybertron, and so far, the only way _off_ this asteroid seemed to be flight. And guess what? Autobots didn't fly! (Excluding the Jettwins.)

Cliffjumper glanced towards the field of debris where he vaguely recalled first encountering the 'Cons. If Oil Slick wasn't standing _right_ there, he could just walk a few yards, dig around for a bit, and pull something out of the wreckage that could be useful.

He glared at Oil Slick.

'...I'm sorry, am I in your way?' Oil Slick asked, _very_ sarcastically.

'Shut it, 'Con!'

'I don't think you're in a position to be saying that, Autobot.'

Cliffjumper snapped. He charged at Oil Slick, fists raging.

Oil Slick held him at arms length while he attempted to get at the Decepticon's legs.

'FRAGGING DECEPTICREEP!' Cliffjumper shouted. 'Wait until I get my servos on you! I'm gonna tear you _limb_ from_ limb_! Then I'm gonna put ya back together so I can do it again!'

'I'm petrified,' smirked Oil Slick.

'You should be!'

Oil Slick casually flicked. Cliffjumper was jostled backwards. He went at him, yet again, ignoring the sharp pain coming from his helmet, where Oil Slick's claw-like fingers scratched against his armour.

'You're a determined Autobot, I'll give you that,' drawled Oil Slick. 'How about you just sit down for a few cycles?'

He forced Cliffjumper down for the second time. Then he was up, standing, and _attempting_ to attack. This was useless, but he wasn't about to give Oil Slick – or _any_ Decepticon – the satisfaction of victory.

Fortunately, he didn't have to keep up this degrading act for long. Oil Slick shoved Cliffjumper backwards as Skywarp and Thundercracker flew into view from the horizon. The Autobot didn't bother pausing in his relentless, ineffective attacks. The duo transformed and hit the ground, Thundercracker spreading his arms out as if he were emitting an invisible godly aura.

'Another superior entrance!' Thundercracker exclaimed. 'My brilliant tactics and transformations never cease to amaze me!'

'What do you two want?' demanded Oil Slick.

'The big scary femme wants to see you,' whimpered Skywarp.

'...Strika?'

Skywarp let out a small scream at the name.

'What does she want?'

'I don't know, but I think you should run for it,' suggested Skywarp. 'Just thinking about her makes me spring an oil leak!'

Oil Slick rolled his eyes. He transformed. 'Very well. Guard the prisoner.'

'Guard the prisoner?!' Skywarp wailed. 'But it's an Autobot! And it transwarped here, didn't it?! We don't know where it's been! It could be infected with a virus that will destroy us all bit by bit! WAIT! Don't leave me here!'

Oil Slick was already speeding away. Just as an idea hit Cliffjumper. Skywarp slowly turned to face him, and the moment they made eye contact, he grinned evilly.

'HAVE MERCY!' Skywarp thrust himself at Cliffjumper's feet. 'Please don't hurt me! I never wanted to be a Decepticon, anyways! _Please_ don't hurt me!'

'Alright, I won't hurt you,' Cliffjumper sneered. 'But you halfta shoot him.'

He gestured to Thundercracker. The clone was admiring his reflection in a large sheet of metal, saying something about his _brilliant_ appearance.

'But then he'll shoot at me!' pointed out Skywarp.

Cliffjumper brought out a finger and poked Skywarp in between the eyes.

Skywarp screamed. 'GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!'

'You've just been infected with a virus,' announced Cliffjumper. 'The only way to get rid of it is to fire your cannons. Now aim and _shoot_.'

Skywarp fired right at his doppelgänger.

Cliffjumper dived for the debris pile as the air exploded. There was a dragging cry of pain, and the ground violently jolted underneath his feet.

'HOW DARE YOU FIRE AT ME!' roared Thundercracker. 'YOU ARE NOT WORTHY TO ENGAGE ME ON THE FIELD OF BATTLE!'

'I'M SORRY!'

'TAKE THIS!'

Another explosion. Cliffjumper covered his head. The ammo from Thundercracker's weapons hit the ground right in front of him. Peeking around the corner, he spotted the pair duking it out. (Though Skywarp was _attempting_ to retreat to a safe distance.) Cliffjumper crawled forwards on all fours, while rockets whistled through the air. Small explosions scattered the debris. He only hoped that they weren't destroying something that could get him off this planet...

Cliffjumper continued to drag himself on his stomach, ducking underneath various structures formed from the debris. He winced as Skywarp let out a horrified scream.

Skywarp toppled right in front of him.

Skywarp turned his head towards Clffjumper.

'Boo!' he exclaimed.

Skywarp screamed, got up, and ran away.

Cliffjumper chuckled and watched Thundercracker's foot storm by. Getting to his feet, he scurried past the brawl. Thundercracker took a step back as – in a panic – Skywarp fired. The Autobot narrowly rolled out of the way.

Once again on his feet, the roar of engines came up over the battle. Strika and Oil Slick were returning.

'Slaggit, you can't stay away for five _cycles_?!' Cliffjumper hissed. He hit the dirt.

Cliffjumper just barely managed to get into a tight corner.

His entire body, along with the debris, flew up a few feet into the air as something heavy – Strika – hit the ground.

'What are you two doing?!' Strika demanded. 'Where is the Autobot?!'

'What Autobot?' asked Thundercracker.

'_The_ Autobot, you fools! Where is it?!'

'...This inferior being obviously _lost_ him! It wasn't _my_ fault!'

'Find him! _NOW_!'

'But what if it infects me with a virus?!' cried Skywarp.

'Than that will be for the good of us all!'

Cliffjumper reached for a gun, and swore under his breath when he remembered he didn't _have_ anything!

He had no choice but to go forwards. Cliffjumper kept stock still as Strika continued to try to mediate between the two. (With little success.) Where was Oil Slick? Why hadn't he heard Oil Slick?

There had to be a gun in here somewhere! How could there be all this wreckage near a _Decepticon_ ship, and not _one_ weapon?!

Cliffjumper nearly tripped over something.

Moving his foot, he stared at a cylinder-shaped object. It was certainly out of place, considering its surroundings.

'What the Pits is this?' Cliffjumper mumbled.

He picked it up. Though his first instinct was to throw it away, he held it in his hands for a few minutes. It was warm. Therefore, whatever it was, it was still operational. Was it a bomb? (If so, this was his lucky day.)

Cliffjumper pried open a small compartment. He was greeted with small, blinking lights and yet another cylinder within that apparently powered it. There was some official lettering printed on the side.

"_Plasma dynamic thruster_."

He was sure he'd heard of that term before. And he was also pretty sure that that had to do with Space Bridges.

Cliffjumper hadn't exactly paid attention in the standard Space Bridge course at the Autobot Academy. As a matter of fact, if Blurr hadn't swiped the answers for the final exam, he probably would've failed. But he vaguely remembered memorizing the answer concerning a plasma dynamic thruster. He was pretty sure that it had something to do with...picking up a transwarp signal and...slaggit, what was the final part of that question?

In any case, this could be prove to be –

Cliffjumper spotted Oil Slick's shadow and tumbled out of the way.

Oil Slick swiped at Cliffjumper's ankle. He bolted for the shelter of the warship, the plasma dynamic thruster in hand.

He slammed his back against a sheet of metal, shaking the thruster thing. 'C'mon, work!'

Again, he dived out of the way, catching a glimpse of the Decepticon's face. The others couldn't be too far behind. He spotted a small space – who knows where it went to. Cliffjumper dived for it.

'Come out, little Autobot,' chimed Oil Slick.

'"_Little_?"' Cliffjumper hissed through clenched teeth. He cringed and shook the thruster harder. 'Will you start working already?!'

Cliffjumper scurried deeper. Strika was pulling apart the metal.

'SLAGGIT!' he threw the thruster to the ground, stomping on it with each word. 'WHY – WON'T – YOU – _WORK_!'

Just like that, it began to glow blue.

Not thinking, he grabbed it, and suddenly spiraled downwards.


	9. Rodimus Prime

**Chapter Nine  
****Rodimus Prime**

_To Rodimus Prime:_

_Recent circumstances require you and your crew consisting of Autobots Brawn, Ironhide, Red Alert, and Hot Shot, to be temporarily reassigned to Cybertron Sub-level Negative 10, by order of Sentinel Magnus. You are to dictate this to your team immediately upon receiving it._

_Cybertron Sub-level Negative 10 is one of the underground layers which make up the interior of Cybertron. It was discovered shortly after the beginning of the Great War and has served numerous purposes from hiding secret arsenals to bomb shelters for civilians fleeing the conflict. Since the War ended, it has undergone regular maintenance checks, however nothing unusual about our planet's structure was discovered until now._

_Cybertron has been undergoing quakes ranging from mild to severe. Vital pipelines have been torn apart and repaired with haste. It is clear that it is in Cybertron Command's best interest to discover the cause of these quakes. Further research has revealed that there have been powerful Transwarp energy surges in the core of Cybertron. The core has never been explored and merely been a theory, up until this point. The Ministry of Science has uncovered solid evidence that within the center of Cybertron is a vast energy chamber, constantly in a state of flux. Transwarp energy is its main power source. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be an issue to the Ministry of Science, however interesting._

_But there apparently have been some malfunctions, the origins of which are unknown. Scientists are currently in the process of attempting to reach a solution._

_In the meantime, Cybertron Command is recruiting the best repair crews, construction workers, and specialists to contain the breeches. Your crew has been carefully selected to work here. Please keep in mind that the Sub-levels are extremely dangerous and are life-threatening on a daily basis. If you feel that a member of your team is uncomfortable with these elements, please have them resign their membership._

_Once you discuss this with your team, please contact Wheeljack of the Autobot Ministry of Science. He will provide you with more details._

_Best regards,_

_Alpha Trion_

* * *

Rodimus skimmed down the letter a final time. The lift clanked wildly in the background, the steady pulsing of Cybertron's core getting louder by the second. As if the noise wasn't promising enough; oil, rust, and age's putrid stench filled the little air there was. The temperature increased. The uncomfortable, quite noticeable characteristics of this hellish place were reflected in everyone's face. Red Alert, Brawn, Ironhide, and even Wheeljack – the only one here who'd visited this place once before.

Except Hot Shot.

'I haven't felt this good in stellar cycles!' Hot Shot exclaimed, out of the blue.

'Quit showing off, twit!' Red Alert was forced to raise her voice in order to be heard.

'I don't know about the rest of you,' said Rodimus. 'But I think this is kind of exciting! I mean, Iacon's a great place, but it's nice to get away for a while.'

'Easy for you to say!' said Brawn. 'I've lived there since the day I came online! Young 'bots dun know how to appreciate what they got, that's what!' He rounded on Rodimus. 'Sides, you said we were gonna go back!'

'I don't see how we can, if Iacon's still shut down,' Rodimus shrugged. 'While we're on Cybertron, we might as well make ourselves useful.'

'Peh, this was _supposed_ to be a vacation,' growled Brawn. 'Yeah, well just think'a 'bout what they're doing with our Space Bridge!'

'Hey, "our" Space Bridge is the legal property of Cybertron Command,' snapped Red Alert. 'Primus, am I the only one here who reads the notice board?!'

Hot Shot frowned at her. 'Notice board?'

'Ugh, for the love of...'

'Sub-level Negative 10, this is our stop!' said Wheeljack.

The lift came to a harsh halt. Rodimus stumbled back into Ironhide, leaning against the latter's sturdy metal plating to regain his balance. The floor jerked sideways before the doors thankfully opened. But what was beyond that wasn't any more comforting than the ride down.

A platform went straight out in front of them, eventually curving over the horizon. It branched out like spider legs. Everything beyond that were tangled pipelines, some steely blue, others red hot. Wheeljack escorted them past these. Rodimus examined the location of the lift carefully, just in case they had to scramble back. This wasn't easy. He also had to keep an eye on Hot Shot, whose face radiated excitement and adventure, feelings he could sympathize with.

Never had he imagined that the Pits could be visited by the living.

'Kinda bleak, ain't it?' said Ironhide.

'You have no idea,' Wheeljack chuckled. 'I spent a lot of my early years down here. I know the place pretty well, so if you got any questions regarding the geography, ask me. And always keep the platform in sight. It's easy to get lost.'

'Exactly...Exactly how big is this place,' said Ironhide.

Wheeljack smirked. 'Take a good look around.'

Only now did Rodimus realize that the pipes went upwards endlessly. One would never know that they were underground. Below them, the holes in the platform revealed a, likewise, endless abyss. He was lucky he had good balance and a flexible body. For Ironhide? He couldn't exactly blame the weary look on his face.

'It's twice as big as the surface, I can tell you that,' explained Wheeljack. 'No one's ever done a full survey, before. Hopefully the measurements all repair crews working down here are taking will give us an idea. Let's go.'

Rodimus tore his gaze away reluctantly.

'There's some rules, though,' Wheeljack continued. 'First off, you can't go exploring in non-designated areas. We don't know, ourselves, the kinds of thing that could be lurking down here. Who knows? There might be a few stray Decepticons who still think the Great War's happening.'

'Woah, wait, Decepticons?' Red Alert said, peering around. Quieter: 'You're telling me some scumbag 'Con could be down here?'

'It's a possibility,' shrugged Wheeljack. 'Hey, that's why it's best not to go exploring too much. If you do run into one – which is still highly unlikely – don't confront it. There's a lot of sensitive materials down here and we don't want anything to be damaged beyond repair. The Ministry's still pretty new to this field of study. We're not sure we can fix anything you break. 'Nother rule is to think before you act. Always. Any disturbances while you're repairing the smallest thing could disrupt the balance of the whole planet.'

'Yeah, Hot Shot,' said Red Alert.

'What exactly will we be repairing?' asked Rodimus.

'Space Bridges.'

He started.

'Don't look so surprised,' chuckled Wheeljack. 'Why else would the Council recruit the best Space Bridge techs this side of the Galactic Rim?'

'We're the best?' Red Alert said. 'Hot Shot, one of the best? Two words I never thought I'd hear in the same sentence!'

'Easy for you to say. You're a medic, you don't actually do any heavy lifting like us!'

She rolled her eyes.

'What yur saying is that there are Space Bridges down here?' said Ironhide.

'Yeah,' said Wheeljack. 'It was just as big a surprise to us. And here we are.'

Wheeljack did a sudden left turn, so sharp that Rodimus thought he'd gone right over the edge. Instead, he found the scientist standing before a sealed door standing in stark contrast to its surrounding, the Autobot insignia dramatically announcing its origin. It was freshly installed.

Rodimus gestured for the rest of the crew to stay behind him. Whatever this was, he wanted to see it first. Wheeljack swiped a card and it carefully revealed its contents.

An entire laboratory had been built around a Space Bridge. Old model, but quite sturdy and tall. Rodimus craned his neck to see the top, simultaneously taking in its triple-forked structure, creating a triangle where the Transwarp bubble would appear. Below this space of air, an apparent triangular platform. Many of its navy blue metal plates had been torn off, either with age or by 'bots or perhaps both. Before it was a variety of computer consoles. Most were activated and displaying diagrams.

From this sheltered place, he momentarily noticed the continuous pulse of the underground.

Brawn whistled. 'Haven't seen that style since just after the Great War.'

'Exactly,' said Wheeljack. 'Rodimus, its your crew's job to dismantle and study this thing. Get it working again, if you can. But not until the Ministry finds out what's happening with the core. You monitor it, you take care of it though it was a protoform.'

Rodimus narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin. 'Why would Autobots build a Space Bridge underground?...The Ministry says that the core's powered by transwarp energy. If a Space Bridge was activated down here, wouldn't –'

'It cause a big explosion obliterating Cybertron?' Brawn finished his sentence.

'Good question, we don't know either,' said Wheeljack. 'Maybe Cybertron's core wasn't as powerful way back when. Transwarp energy builds up over time. When there's a huge concentrated amount in one area, it becomes unstable. There's no telling what could happen. That's another rule. Don't even think about looking for the core. Don't even try to use scans to find it. It's a sensitive thing. The slightest disruption could cause apocalypse.'

'It can't be that sensitive,' said Rodimus.

'The Ministry won't know until the experts study it.'

'Hey! Hey, check this out!'

All faceplates turned to the voice. Hot Shot was standing on the platform in the Space Bridge.

'Platform goes up!' Hot Shot pressed a button. The platform went up. 'Platform goes down! Platform goes up! Platform goes down! Why don't we use this style, anymore? It's tons of fun!'

'Quit playing with that, ya slagging protoform!' hollered Brawn. 'I once heard a story 'bout a 'bot gettin' offlined 'cause he was fiddling with a platform like that! It shot him clean into the nearest sun!'

'Keeping playing with it!' yelled Red Alert. 'Don't afraid to be reckless!'

'Relax, I doubt it's dangerous,' said Wheeljack. He handed a datapad to Rodimus. 'Here's all your orders, summarized. As team leader, you're expected to contact Cybertron Command once every day. They'll send you reports, extra hands, and anything else you'll need. Contact me if anyone there's giving you a hard time...Speaking of which, I gotta get back to the surface. The sooner we figure out what's with the core, the sooner your crew can return to regular duty.'

'I'll see you later?' Red Alert asked.

'Yeah, I'll be checking in now and again.'

'Great,' she shook his hand. 'Good luck.'

Wheeljack was halfway to the door when a horrible thought came to Rodimus.

'Wheeljack, wait a minute,' he came right up to him, speaking in a low tones. 'What exactly are the risks to my crew?'

The scientist's eyes softened. He, too, kept his voice soft. '...If you obey the rules, minimal. However, we can't make any promises. Do me a favour and keep an eye on Red Alert. She's a good friend of mine and, if it were up to me, she wouldn't be down here.'

No problem. Wheeljack may be a huge nerd, but he was also twice his size.

'Alright,' Rodimus gave a quick nod. 'Thank you.'

Wheeljack was gone. He turned to find Brawn in an ensuing argument with Hot Shot, Ironhide watching bemusedly from the sidelines. Only Red Alert had taken notice of their whispered voices. He made careful eye contact with her. One thing he liked about her was that they could have a whole conversation in a mere look. No explaining. Skipping the whole intrepid severity of the topic.

He began to read their orders. He sure didn't feel thankful.

* * *

'Reading the fine print?'

Alert sat in the chair next to him.

'Well, it's a little strange,' said Rodimus. He put his feet up on the console. 'One of the clauses says that, and I quote: "Repair Crew 68 is to monitor all activities within 100 miles of their station, not to interfere or make contact with the other repair crews, and to report all abnormalities no matter how insignificant they seem. Likewise, they are prohibited from leaving the area unless instructed to do so. Repair Crew 68 is to not make any attempt to contact Autobots outside of Cybertron Command and their designated contacts." Is it just me, or do we sound like prisoners?'

'Aren't we all prisoners?' Alert said airily.

He narrowed his optics.

'What?' asked Red Alert, resuming her traditional harsh voice. 'Cybertron Command has been acting funny ever since Cliffjumper escaped. Oh, come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed! First, 'bots are arrested for no reason at all. Second, all Space Bridges are shut off. Third –'

'It's not that I haven't noticed,' said Rodimus. 'I just think that...that for now...'

He eyed Brawn, Ironhide, and Hot Shot. The trio were actively examining the Space Bridge. Rodimus gestured for Red Alert to come closer.

'We better lay low about what we think,' he whispered. 'Haven't you noticed that some of the 'bots getting arrested were...outspoken about C.C.'s actions? I don't want to become the next Cliffjumper.' Rodimus glanced at the rest of their team. 'I don't want anyone in this team to be arrested, just because C.C.'s overreacting. But I...I also don't want to see anyone killed on this assignment.'

Alert was silent.

'You thinking of what happened to Springer?'

'Sort of.'

She sighed, then clapped his shoulder. 'Well, I'm sure that won't happen again. You're right. Let's be careful what we say and watch out for the others. Besides that, let's focus on what we're here to do.' Red Alert shoved a datapad into his hand. 'Our job.'

'...Yeah...Yeah, okay. Thanks, Alert. I can't help but wonder what's really going on up there, you know.'

'You're not the only one,' she made to leave, however paused. 'It'll turn out alright, Rodimus. It always has for us.' Alert turned to the Space Bridge. 'You pieces of scrap! Hot Shot, don't even think about throwing that at me! According to Command, that could blow up at any moment! If you're going to destroy something, destroy yourself!'

Rodimus grinned and scrolled down the datapad. It certainly was an interesting piece of machinery. But no matter how excited he was over what they were about to face, the feeling of anxiety still remained. The list of detailed orders had yet to explain the exact dangers down here. Were they afraid that it'd scare them away? That they'd try to leave if they learned the truth?

No, Alert was right. He'd do his job for now. Then, if someone handed to him a good reason to, he would retaliate. That was the Autobot thing to do. No matter what the legal definition was.

* * *

Rodimus wasn't sure if he'd ever examined, heard of, or even theorized that such a complex design for a Space Bridge existed.

According to Brawn, it had been invented by a half-insane 'bot randomly doodling in the middle of class. This was not just a Space Bridge; it was something so high-tech that only the greatest mind on Cybertron fully understood it. The triple-forks gave an extra push when transwarping. Therefore, a traveling Autobot could go farther, however it was more difficult to set coordinates. That was them main reason the style had ceased to be produced. Several Autobots had ended up in entirely wrong places; one unfortunate mech showing up in Decepticon territory. Another incident had completely torn apart a repair crew.

Brawn was noticeably weary around this Space Bridge, which led Rodimus to believe that either he'd experienced a similar incident, himself, or was simply moved by the stories. Whatever the cause, Rodimus was thankful to have him on the team. He was the only one who'd witnessed this thing in action, and Rodimus wasn't so sure of his footing, yet.

Rodimus wasn't accustomed to studying Space Bridges. Not since he'd studied them in his early days in training, still learning how to take them apart and put them back together. It was like a hopeless science experiment. There wasn't anything remarkable about this Space Bridge, except for two things. The first thing being that it wasn't a common style. The second thing being that it was underground.

It was almost like...it'd been used regularly by whoever built it, than for whatever reason it was abandoned.

In the dim light of the laboratory, Rodimus ran over the diagram a final time. This was just so _weird_.

He really should be in recharge. But how could he sleep when such images overlapped in his mind? As a matter of fact, it wasn't the Space Bridge that kept him from recharging properly. It was the location. He'd never quite gotten over his ultimate question, the one that been repeating in his mind since it'd first come to him megacycles ago. Why build this thing underground? Was the core related to it, as Cybertron Command seemed to believe?

There had to be a reason. He would find it.

'You won't find it.'

Rodimus spared only a small glance to Red Alert. Brawn sighed.

'Hate to say it, but I think she's right, kid,' said Brawn. 'Whoever built this is probably offline. If they are online, I think they'd be pretty old by now. Much as I'm interested in why it's here too, I don't think we're going to find anything beyond theories.'

'Oh?' Rodimus looked up. 'You have a theory?'

'...Only one,' Brawn grimaced. 'See, maybe it's just plain, slaggin' glitches who built this.'

'Glitches don't build Space Bridges.'

'Get it through your auditory processor, kid!' exclaimed Brawn. 'What 'm sayin' is that not all smart 'bots are smart! Maybe they came up with some ragtag, far-fetched theory that a Space Bridge would work better underground!'

'I can see where you're coming from,' said Rodimus. 'But I don't believe it.'

Brawn scoffed and walked off. Rodimus turned to Red Alert.

'Why does everyone hate me because I don't have the same opinions?'

She smirked. 'I think we have more in common than it seems.'

Rodimus returned the comment with a warm smile and returned to studying the diagram.

'Face it, Rodimus, you're not going to find anything. Besides – woah!'

Red Alert was floored. Rodimus gripped the edge of the console as the floor shook. It only lasted for a few nanoclicks, fading away into the pulse. (As he'd come to call Cybertron's apparent sparkbeat.) Alert straightened herself.

'Slaggit, that always happens at the least opportune moment!' she exclaimed. 'I oughta find the glitch who's controlling these things.'

'Primus won't like that,' chuckled Rodimus. 'But vengeance will have to wait. Looks like that quake cracked a few pipes.'

'Uh oh. The whole planet's going to blow.'

'Very funny, Alert,' Rodimus looked back at Brawn, now chatting with Ironhide. 'If you two want to make yourselves useful, you can head to Sections 4A, 4B, and 5A. We got a few cracks, and you remember what happened last time.'

'Ugh, don't mention that!' Red Alert said. 'Sentinel Prime, himself?! Worst punishment ever! "Why you irresponsible glitches! I don't want to tell you what you look like, slagging slagger slagging away his slag time while other slagging 'bots slag away up here!" Primus, I'd like to shove that massive chin of his up his exhaust port!'

'I'm sure many 'bots dream of that day,' chuckled Brawn.

'We goin', or what?' asked Ironhide. 'Been sittin' round here for too long.'

'Way ahead of –'

'Oh, and take Hot Shot with you,' added Rodimus.

'WHAT?!' several voices exclaimed at once. Including Hot Shot. The pyrotechnician was hanging from one of the Space Bridge's forks, resembling the likes of an organic creature Rodimus had once encountered.

Hot Shot did a few impressive flips to get to the ground level. 'I don't wanna go! I slave and slave away –'

'And your work never seems to be finished,' muttered Red Alert.

'Look who's talking! All you ever do is sit in your cozy corner and do chemistry experiments!'

'Hey, I'm the only medic for 100 miles, so watch what comes out of ya mouth!'

'Look, just take him,' Rodimus turned to Brawn, while Red Alert and Hot Shot's bickering continued. 'He's driving me crazy.'

'I second that,' said Brawn. 'You ask me, this whole confinement thing is good for him. He needs to learn that ya can't just ignore your duties or go explorin' in certain areas! Slagging young 'bots think ya can do whatever they want...'

'Just,' Rodimus began abruptly, then lowered his tone, 'just go get him to release some steam. Okay?'

Brawn grumbled. He gestured to Ironhide. He grabbed Hot Shot's forearm and made to leave.

'And your hat looks funny, too!' Hot Shot added, pointing towards Red Alert.

'At least I don't look like a scuba diver!' she retorted.

With a whoosh, they were gone. Red Alert scoffed and stocked off towards her now-signature corner. Here, she'd set up various chemistry experiments, complete with notes.

'Don't you get tired of arguing with him?' asked Rodimus.

'What, with Hot Shot?' said Red Alert. 'Nah. He needs to learn to have a bit more respect for femmes. I mean, who does he think he is?!'

* * *

'Who does she _think_ she is?!'

Brawn and Ironhide ignored him. (Big surprise.) They climbed down the ladder ahead, Brawn in the lead and being his usual, stern self. He paused on the immediate platform below. Steam billowed up through the holes, carrying with it the familiar scent of age. Hot Shot scowled.

'Are you two listening?' he demanded. 'She treats me like I'm a protoform! I swear she's always trying to pick a fight!'

'Somehow I think it's the other way around,' muttered Brawn.

'You wanna say that again, old timer?'

'This "old timer,"' Brawn swung around and raised a fist; though he was several heads shorter than him, Hot Shot took a tentative step back, 'has known Red Alert for quite some time. When she thinks someone's a jerk, she fights with 'em. It the way her brain works, Hot Shot, and if you shaddup an' think 'bout it for a minute, you'll see it from her point of view.'

'I'm not a jerk,' said Hot Shot, crossing his arms. 'I'm "opinionated."'

'Blast it, where's that damage?!' Brawn growled. 'We've been walking in circles for megacycles! How could this be hard...'

'If you want to meet a real jerk, you could talk to Sentinel Prime,' said Hot Shot. 'But NO! You go about accusing opinionated, not to mention good-looking 'bots such as myself, of being jerks! No wonder you have no friends!'

Brawn scowled. 'Brawn to Rodimus Prime. We don't see any cracks around here. Everything looks fine.'

'Well, there's something damaged in that area,' said Rodimus Prime, via the com link. 'It isn't a scanner malfunction. Keep looking and contact me in a megacycle. Rodimus Prime out.'

Hot Shot suddenly shivered.

'Now what?' asked Brawn.

'Primus, I've got the chills!' said Hot Shot. 'I wish you'd stop staring at the back of my head like that, Ironhide! I always get the chills whenever someone's staring at me!'

'Not lookin' at you, shorty,' said Ironhide.

'Shorty?!'

'Yup, I'm lookin' over you,' Ironhide let out a hardy chuckle.

Hot Shot muttered a few good curses and fell behind the two older 'bots. He wrapped his arms around him, still shivering. The platform extended for another two hundred or so yards ahead of them. This was a frequently patrolled place. Hot Shot often came here to do standard patrol and, hence, had basically memorized the layout.

He didn't like it. It was too oppressive. Had a funny aura to it, though whether it was the isolation or the fact that everything below this level was forbidden, he didn't know.

Hot Shot paused and shuddered again. A dark shadow moved from the corner of his eye. He let out a small scream and scurried away.

'What is it now?!' Brawn hollered from ahead.

Hot Shot did a double take to the area. Other than an endless sea of rusted pipelines extending to the horizon, he saw nothing unusual. The brief shadow had gone away.

'...Nothing,' he said. All the same, he walked a little closer to Ironhide.

'Bah, this is useless!' Brawn halted. 'There's nothin' wrong here! I hope this place does blow up so we don't have ta go searching every time something gets broken! Slagging Cybertron Command. Hope they send us back to Iacon soon.'

'Uh, hate to cut in here,' said Ironhide. 'But I think I found ya cracks. Down there.'

Hot Shot and Brawn peered over the edge of the platform. Sure enough, some twenty feet down, a series of gaping cracks had been hammered into a pipeline. There were no visible ways down other than climbing.

Sighing, Hot Shot swung one leg over the edge. Brawn grabbed him, never moving his optics away from the readings he was taken on the scanner mounted in his arm.

'That's out of our area,' said Brawn. 'We better head back.'

'Whaddya mean, "out of our area?!" demanded Hot Shot.

'We're at the very edge of the territory we're supposed to patrol,' Brawn explained. 'Don'cha remember what Wheeljack keeps saying? "Never leave the designated areas!" Let's head back to HQ. Rodimus can contact C.C., and they can contact –'

'By that time, something might have exploded,' said Hot Shot. 'C'mon. They'll appreciate this, and maybe they'll relocate us to someplace more exciting!'

'Hot Shot!'

Too late. Hot Shot jumped off the platform. He climbed expertly downwards, sliding down pipelines and swinging whenever appropriate. Falling the last ten feet, he landed an exact, safe distance away from the damage. He looked up to salute at the two confused – and rather irritated – faceplates leaning over the platform's edge.

Hot Shot activated his flamethrowers, grinning at the fire, then concentrating them into a narrow beam.

The fire fascinating him. So easily controlled, appearing innocent, yet in a split second they could be wielded as deathly torches. He loved swirling it between his fingers. No, it didn't just swirl. It danced. But now was a time to use the fire with care. He'd learned the hard way that fire wasn't just a plaything. It was capable of great and horrible deeds.

Whoever invented fire should get an award.

Oh, right, he was supposed to be working. He flipped down his visor and placed the beam to the smallest crack. It'd be enough to seal it.

He looked up at a heavy mass landing behind him, slightly weighing down the pipe. Ironhide frowned.

'Here to make sure ya get the job done, than get back where ya belong,' said Ironhide, pointing upwards. 'Brawn's pretty mad. Didn't wanna come down, says it's all bad luck.'

'Superstitious old glitch,' muttered Hot Shot. 'C'mon, we're here now! No alarms or Autotroopers in sight! Once I'm done, why don't we go exploring? Don't you want to know what's down in the core? I bet it's a whole lotta fire! Whew! That'd be...awesome...'

Ironhide paused. 'What'sa matter?'

'Take a look at these,' Hot Shot moved slightly to reveal the cracks.

'I ain't a mechanic, Shot.'

'Just look at the shape of them, you big malfunction!'

Ironhide looked a second time. 'Nuthin.'

'Good grief!'

Hot Shot ran a finger along the nearest crack, the one he'd just sealed. The scar was crooked and red hot. The second was open and perfectly parallel with the other. Its edges were raw, cracked, caving inwards...Like something had dug a sharp object into the metal. The third, fourth, and fifth were the same, only these bigger and going into a slight circular motion. Hot Shot and Ironhide peered over the edge and spotted a sixth.

Apparently, Ironhide still wasn't any closer to putting together the pieces of the puzzle.

'Hey, Brawn!' Hot SHot called. 'Come take a look at this.'

Brawn grumbled inaudibly and jumped downwards, taking his sweet time doing so. He hit the ground next to Hot Shot.

'What?' snapped Brawn, voice rigid.

'Do these look like...claw marks to you?' Hot Shot inquired.

The old timer started. Optics wide, he took a close look at the damage. It was a long time before anyone spoke.

'I've never seen anything like this,' Hot Shot said. 'Do you think that...a Decepticon could've done this?'

'Could be,' said Brawn. 'Wheeljack did say that there could be some down here. Red Alert would know. We better get her and Rodimus over –'

* * *

Rodimus leaned back on his chair. Alert tinkered with her experiments, apparently enjoying herself. At least one of them was having fun. He wasn't that good an engineer, so it was pointless for him to busy himself with studying the Space Bridge. Yes, he'd been trained to do so. But he would never match up to Brawn and Hot Shot, while he coordinated their efforts in the background or did research. Rodimus liked researching things. Down here? Cybertron Command was limiting their access to certain information.

What this "certain information" was? Rodimus didn't know.

He missed being on Iacon. The science station there had enormous databases. Rodimus spent hours just reading the material and viewing history tapes, about the Great War, about their greatest leaders, about the _real_ Cybertron. He wished he lived in those days. How exciting it must've been for even repair crews! Imagine getting called to do repairs on battle fields, perhaps participating in the action!

Cybertron wasn't the same planet anymore. Brawn had said so, himself, on more than one occasions. These days, it was all about politics. Decepticons hadn't been that much of a threat in years. But with the recent activity on Earth, that had quickly changed. The siege on Iacon Rodimus had witnessed first hand was evidence of that. Whatever the Council thought, no matter how hard they tried to keep it quiet, the Decepticon threat was continuing. A part of Rodimus wanted war to break out, so that he wouldn't be as bored as he was now.

_You want a few million Autobots to die? How very considerate of you, Rodimus. Do you want your team mates to be on the casualty list?_

Sometimes he hated his conscious.

But he knew it was right.

Rodimus had a list of priorities. His own personal satisfaction with life didn't matter. It didn't even qualify! His team – Red Alert, Brawn, Ironhide, and Hot Shot – must come first.

Admittedly, he hadn't had the best opinion of them when he first met the team. Those were the days when Hot Shot and Red Alert weren't around. It was just him, Brawn, Ironhide, and a rather light-hearted fellow named Springer. This repair crew was his first solo command. His reassignment after spending several stellar cycles working an underground operation on another colony on the Galatic Rim.

He thought they were stupid, close-minded malfunctions who didn't know anything beyond Iacon. Brawn and Springer had drawn routes from there. Ironhide had just been stationed on Iacon by Cybertron Command, but was a country 'bot at heart. To them, Iacon was home. Rodimus thought of the chunk of asteroid and Space Bridge as a burden and nothing more. There was nothing much there to see. A mining operation, yes, but he wasn't supposed to interact with the employees. Then there was the sparsely populated science station and colony, which was only interested in geological structures. He immediately began to regret this reassignment.

Rodimus hated Iacon, and the more he hated, the more Iacon seemed to hate him back.

It was a long time before Springer, Brawn, and Ironhide snapped some sense into him.

Red Alert had joined the team a few stellar cycles later. Apparently, she'd been involved in some "incident" and had been reassigned to Iacon until further notice. Her sarcastic demeanor was annoying if you weren't used to it. It wasn't uncommon to find her arguing with someone, be it a random by-passer or Rodimus, himself. She often disappeared in the middle of the work day, had a tendency to state the horrifying facts at a patient's bedside, and yet wasn't alarmed in the face of danger.

One time there'd been a cave-in in the mines. With no rescue crews for light-years, Team Rodimus had been recruited to save the helpless workers. There had been some causalities. There was a gruesome mess of mech fluid, oil, and body parts. But Red Alert never faltered. She did her job. Many of those Autobots survived because of her efforts. That was the first moment that Rodimus respected her, and that respect never faded away.

He recalled one incident where she'd lost it, though not in the same way as others. Red Alert's way of "loosing it" was definitely different from the norm. Her "loosing it" translated to "becoming more isolated and colder than usual."

Springer. He wasn't a careful fellow; lazy, too. As a standard communications officer, his jobs were simplistic in nature, usually consisting of "taking messages." But he liked to help when the others were working on the Space Bridge, though his knowledge of them was limited in nature. Often he was more of a hindrance than a help. (Rodimus smirked at the thought.) He'd distract Ironhide, disappear during the workday, and sometimes just annoy the _Pits_ out of everybody. But he lightened the mood.

When Springer died that day, Springer had been sparring with Ironhide when he was supposed to be at his station. Rodimus – for the split second after spotting the body – thought he was dreaming. Only when he saw, close up, that Springer's body was grey, and a piericing hole where his spark chamber would've been, did he believe that he was dead.

That's when Red Alert lost it, in her own personal way. She never let it happen again.

That's also when Hot Shot had shown up.

Springer's replacement was quite young, but not so young that he didn't know what he was doing. Rodimus skeptically watched him day to day, expecting him to be unprofessional and immature. Well, Shot was immature. But he wasn't on the work site. There weren't many pyrotechnicians in existence. It was difficult to master. They had to be careful, technical, observant, and aware of the risks. Hot Shot was all that. Though he loved fire, he also knew that it was dangerous to others. Rodimus often saw him during off-hours, far from the Space Bridges and others, and perform elaborate stunts with the flames. He would never do that nearby another 'bot.

His team wasn't going to die on this assignment. There wasn't going to be another "Springer" incident. They were too good to die in the Pits.

Rodimus checked his internal clock. Brawn was supposed to have checked in, by now.

'I wonder what they're doing,' said Rodimus. Red Alert jumped.

'Who's doing what?' she asked, stupidity.

'The others.'

'Oh. I'm – I'm sure Hot Shot roped Brawn and Ironhide into exploring or something. They can take care of themselves, Rodimus, I'm sure of it.'

'...I'm going to contact Brawn.'

'Don't do that! You know he hates being pushed!'

'I'm just going to see what they're doing. Rodimus to Brawn, come in.'

Radio silence. There was bit of static ringing in his ears. That was it. Red Alert spun around in her seat.

'Rodimus to Brawn, come in,' Rodimus repeated. 'Please respond. Hot Shot? Ironhide? Is anyone there?'

A high-pitched wail screamed, reverberating with a vengeance. Rodimus grunted and covered his ears. It lasted for a good two cycles. When it disappeared, he was on the floor. Red Alert was standing over him. For a moment, she had an uncharacteristically worried expression. But it faded once she saw him getting up.

'Let me guess, Hot Shot thought it'd be funny to scream his response,' she said.

'No jokes, Alert,' snapped Rodimus. 'But it was close. I got interference. We better go find them and see what the problem is.'

'Oh, Primus, you're overreacting, again,' sighed Red Alert. 'Remember – will you stop moving around? - Remember when Hot Shot went out to the bar during work hours and turned off his com link? You freaked out! You put everyone on alert, didn't go into scheduled recharge, and missed that job interview that could've gotten you off that slagging asteroid! You talked complete nonsense! Do you know how humiliated I was to be under your command, and to find our "missing and injured team mate" drinkin' himself silly?!'

'Look, I gotta check,' said Rodimus. He pulled out his bow and electric arrows. 'You have to come too. If they're injured –'

'Rodimus, they probably just turned off their com links to – RODIMUS!' Alert groaned as her commander disappeared out the door. 'Arrogant mech, won't take my advice, thick-headed slagger...Free speech my exhaust port!'

She followed at a purposefully slow pace.

* * *

Rodimus peered down the shaft. A pipe with distinctive cracks, the most unusual he'd ever seen, called to them. Red Alert was leaning forwards to take better readings. The results were displayed on the computer built into her unusual device where a left servo should have been.

'Well, they were here,' said Red Alert. 'And, as I said they would, they stepped out of our territory. Autotroopers have probably picked them up by now. Why don't we –'

'Don't automatically assume troopers arrested them,' said Rodimus. 'Forget our assignment for a moment. I want to find the others.' He put a duo of arrows to his bow. 'Brace yourself. I got a bad feeling about this.'

Alert moved her free hand to mimic his mouth. Nonetheless, he was relieved when he steadily landed on the pipeline, and she soon followed.

'Well, we've just disobeyed direct orders,' she stated. 'If we're put on trial, I'm laying the blame on you.'

'And I'll take it, despite your attitude problem.'

'You wanna say that to my face?!'

'Look, Alert,' said Rodimus. 'Other things are more important than obeying orders. It doesn't matter to me if the other's lives mean anything to you, but right now, I could use your help. If you please.'

He hated being so hard on her, but it was obvious that Red Alert wasn't going to cooperate until she heard the truth. Her face contorted, probably resisting the urge to smack him. It vanished as quickly as it had arisen. Alert rolled her eyes and half-shrugged.

'Thanks,' Rodimus smiled.

He bent over the cracks in the pipeline, spewing gentle whiffs of an unknown smell. The uniqueness of the damage became more obvious. One had been sealed, no doubt the work of Hot Shot. Black scorch marks spread out from this, like tire tracks, but not quite. Another sign that Shot had been here.

'Their energy signatures are all around here,' said Red Alert. 'They were here, alright. And they weren't alone...I'm reading two extra signatures. Sounds like...Pits, I can't tell if it's 'Con or Autobot..'

'It could be another Autobot?'

'It ain't out of the question,' she looked down at the readings. 'Autobot or Decepticon, whoever it was attacked them. Well, one of the signatures attacked them.'

'If it is an Autobot,' said Rodimus, 'why would they attack one of their own?'

'A case of mistaken identity, no doubt. Then, once they realized their factions, Brawn and the others went with the other Autobot.' She lowered her arm. 'They went straight down from here. Then it just stops. Either they're dead, or there's a damping field, or there's just too much interference from the core.'

'So, if we find the other repair crew's headquarters, we might find the others.'

'Do we have to go farther down?' Alert moaned. 'Rodimus, they're already in trouble. I don't want to –'

He gave her a "look."

'...Okay, okay, fine, I get it,' she sighed.

'Hey, do you think you can find out who the other energy signatures belongs to?' asked Rodimus. 'Can't you use the A.I.D. or something?'

'I'll get right on it,' said Red Alert. 'Know what, I'll need a better computer. I'll head back to the base and –'

'Stop making excuses.'

Red Alert let out an irritable growl. As Rodimus jumped from his perch, slowing his descent by grabbing onto pipes whenever possible. He heard her following at a...reasonable pace. At least she wasn't too reluctant as to go against his orders. Or rather, requests. He couldn't help but get the feeling that Alert was getting the same feeling as he was. That whatever was down there, whatever had caused Brawn and the others to go into radio silence, was not welcoming.

Rodimus landed on a walkway. Around his feet, steam billowed up and hissed, as though they were alarms. The temperature was higher, but tolerable. He paused to take a better look around. There was no sign of life. He waited for Alert to take more readings. The medic's expression was austere and somewhat confused. Grimacing, she showed him the readings. Their energy signatures were stronger. They had to be nearby.

Transforming into vehicle mode, he sped down the length of the walkway. At the very end, he found a pressure valve and a ladder going further downwards. Alert soon joined him. They exchanged equally befuddled looks before continuing.

The ladder seemed to head straight into hell, itself. And, sliding down it at top speed, it certainly felt that way. The temperature increased dramatically, and so suddenly that his internal systems had difficulty keeping up. Rodimus's vision swam. He came to an abrupt halt, one servo on his head.

'You okay down there?' asked Alert.

'Yeah,' he gasped. 'Yeah, fine. How are those readings?'

'Getting stronger. As a matter of fact, I think that if we go any further, we might bypass them. Look to your left.'

This was more difficult than it sounded. Boiling hot steam kept fogging up his optics. But once he squinted, Rodimus spotted what she pointed out. Wedged between the pipes, in front of a rusted stationary platform, was a clearly broken doorway. A good five yards away. He was surprised he hadn't spotted this before and did not hesitate to jump onto the platform.

'Readings are strongest here,' said Alert, joining him. She examined the door. 'I think it's been forced open.'

The readings weren't the only thing that was strongest. The sensation of hostility was also eminent. Rodimus didn't believe he was psychic or anything, but it was pretty obvious that this was not ordinary. He ran a finger along the enormous dent in the the automatic entryway.

Rodimus took out his bow, preparing for a battle to the death.

'Whatever happens, don't let your guard down,' he said.

'Duh.'

Without hesitation, Alert pried open the door with remarkable robustness. The yellow glow from Rodimus's weapon was cast across the room. He nearly released it in shock.

Another Space Bridge. Exactly identical to their own. It was shrouded in complete darkness.

His bow poised, Rodimus led the way in. Alert looked around with innocent curiosity. There were no immediate signs of a repair crew inhabiting this place, though it was obviously constructed under the supervision of Cybertron Command. Everything had the same layout as their station. If it wasn't so dark and warm, Rodimus would've thought they'd been miraculously transported back to their place.

'Uh...Rodimus, check this out.'

Alert gestured to a mass on the floor. Rodimus nearly recoiled in horror. The disembodied shell of a mech was horror movie worthy. Dried mech fluid was crusted on his outstretched fingers. While he felt like screaming, Red Alert calmly knelt and picked up the hand.

'Fascinating,' she said. 'Looks like this guy's been dead for a while.'

'Nice thought,' muttered Rodimus.

'Hot Shot?! Brawn?!'

He snapped his gaze to where she pointed. Red Alert was already at Brawn's side. He was on his back. His optics were wide open, however his leg was bent at an awkward angle. Behind him, Hot Shot was kneeling and gripping his head. A nasty gash bled mech fluid.

There was no sign of Ironhide.

'Are you two alright?' asked Rodimus. 'Where's Ironhide?'

'I'm fine, get your bloomin' hands off of me!' demanded Brawn.

Alert turned to Hot Shot.

'Well, well, well, look who needs repairs,' Alert said. 'Guess who's the only medic for miles around?'

'Aw, Primus,' groaned Hot Shot.

'Where's Ironhide?' Rodimus repeated.

'Been wondering that, myself,' said Brawn. 'I dunno...It happened very quickly. I didn't even realize what was going on. I hope that Decepticon didn't KO'd him and carry him off...Primus! We better get ready to tackle him 'fore he comes back!'

'Before who comes back? What's going –'

There was a double click. Rodimus instinctively prepared to shoot his bow, but it was already too late. A red dot danced on his chest. The 'bot who held was gun was straight across the room. He didn't recognize him right away. He didn't recognize him because of the dark expression on his face. The kidnapper stepped out of the shadows.

It was Cliffjumper.

And he had a gun.

A _big_ gun.

Rodimus blinked. 'How did you...Where did...I thought you were halfway across the galaxy! Mirage confessed to...Brawn, what's going on here? Where did he come from?!'

'Don't ask me,' shrugged Brawn, now sitting upright. 'He jumped us. Well, he jumped us after the 'Con jumped us. See, we were just looking at some funny looking cracks in a pipe. Then the weirdest looking Decepticon came out of no where. Cliff, here, showed up an' fired at it. Didn't seem to want to fight, so it disappeared. Cliffjumper forced us down here at gunpoint, and hasn't cared to explain how in the Pits he got back to Cybertron.'

'Cliffjumper, come on,' Rodimus stepped towards him. Cliffjumper shifted the gun to a more formidable position. 'Come on, you can't be serious. Look, about – about what happened at the trial, I didn't –'

'Fire your electric arrows and I'll stick a hole in your chest,' said Cliffjumper. 'Not that your arrows are much of a threat anyways, I always thought they were wimpy.'

'Cliffjumper, don't change the subject.'

'Don't come any closer!' he poised the gun.

Rodimus hesitated. A hand emerged from the shadows right behind Cliffjumper. It clapped his shoulder, he screamed. The gun was tossed across the room, while an entire arm pulled him into a bear hug.

'Ironhide, you can put him down,' said Rodimus, crossing over to them.

'What?!' Ironhide exclaimed. 'You gotta be kidding!'

'No, seriously, it's alright,' Rodimus said. 'He wasn't going to shoot in the first place.'

'You don't know that!' Cliffjumper argued, kicking wildly.

'Ironhide, let him go.'

The security 'bot fixed him with a very serious expression. 'Hope you know what you're doing. Okay, one wrong move, and I'll crush ya! Got it?!'

Cliffjumper could only grunt in response. Ironhide reluctantly released him. He suddenly became aware of how short he was...and the smell. The former secretary had picked up the distinctive scent of this place. Before anyone could react, he tumbled over to his fallen gun and picked it up.

'I don't want to shoot, so don't give me an excuse to do that!' snapped Cliffjumper. 'I haven't forgotten what happened at the trial! You're on my permanent bad side!'

Ironhide changed into his metal form. He sprang forwards and grabbed the weapon by its barrel. Cliffjumper clung onto its other end, refusing to let go even when he held it elevated and he swung four feet off the ground. A gentle shake was all it took to force him to release it.

'I've been on your bad side since the day I met you! Now what are you doing, running around and taking my crew hostage?!'

'And killing 'bots,' Red Alert abruptly appeared at his shoulder. Cliffjumper looked confused, until she indicated the body she and Rodimus had stumbled over.

'You saying I'm a killer?!' he took a fighting stance. 'It was like that when I got here!'

'And how did you get here?' asked Brawn, getting to his feet.

'HELLO! Giant Space Bridge, to your right!' Cliffjumper pointed up at the eccentric-looking portal. 'And I didn't think the plasma...something...thruster would take me all the way down here! Do you think I came underground to sabotage or somethin'?!'

'Whoo! A spy! So you confess!' exclaimed Red Alert.

'I AIN'T A TRAITOR!'

'I dunno, _Mister_ Cliffjumper, you're looking pretty bad from over here. And I was beginning to believe that you didn't kill that intelligence agent...'

Ironhide took his place between them. He held Cliffjumper back. The latter danced around the bulky Autobot, trying to get at Red Alert with no success.

'LEMME AT HER!' demanded Cliffjumper.

'May I remind you both that there's still no proof!' said Rodimus. 'Alert, you're being a pain! Shut up! Cliffjumper, I don't care if you're on some noble quest to prove your innocence! That gives you no right to attack others! Will you PLEASE pull yourself together and tell me where you came from?!'

His voice dramatically echoed back to him. Cliffjumper stared at him in total disbelief. After a brief silence, he mumbled something that sounded like an insult.

'I'll tell you where I've been,' he growled. 'I've been stuck no an asteroid on the outer reaches of Autobot territory, with nothing but insane Decepticons that for _SOME WEIRD REASON_ look _exactly_ like Starscream for company! I've been stuck out there, no news of what's happening on Cybertron or how determined C.C. is to capture me! You better believe I'm taking a big risk coming back here! And you know why I came back?! I came back because I'm trying to save an Autobot who's been crushed into a cube, thrown into the incinerator, is probably dead, and who is the direct case of me being arrested!"

'Then I come flying out of that Space Bridge and then I find all these offline shells! I think: "now they're going to think I killed these guys." I burrow one of their weapons and head out, only to find two things. One: your crew. Two: another crazed Decepticon! Just my luck! After this 'Con scurries off, HE –' He pointed at Brawn with contempt – 'insists on going back to your HQ! Not gonna happen!'

'Why did you take them hostage?' asked Rodimus.

'I don't know! I wasn't thinking!' said Cliffjumper, as though this was obvious. 'Now I'm even in a bigger mess all because you're here! This would've been much simpler if you stayed on your little asteroid!'

'...You're not making any sense,' said Rodimus.

'I have a question,' said Red Alert. 'What exactly are you planning to do, if you even manage to find Blurr's shell? Huh? He's a cube, isn't he? Tell us your ingenious plan about how you're going to save him, if the cube in question hasn't already been burned to little bits!'

'How am I supposed to know?!' screamed Cliffjumper. 'I don't think; I do, toots! If I spent all my time thinking, nothing would get done!'

'I wouldn't,' Hot Shot cleared his throat, 'I wouldn't call her "toots" if I were you.'

'Slag yeah! Wait until I get my servos on you, I'll tear you to pieces!'

Ironhide spun around and restrained Red Alert.

'Primus, you're more annoying than Hot Shot!' said Red Alert. 'Let me take him on! I'll gladly dismantle him so we can carry him back to Cybertron Command! It might make up for disobeying orders!'

'Oh, no you don't!' Cliffjumper exclaimed. 'You're not taking me alive!'

He took something out from underneath his hood.

'Cliffjumper, hold on a nanoclick, don't be reck –'

There was a small explosion. Instinctively, everyone went to their knees. Rodimus froze, and then sprang up. Vaguely, he spotted a red figure heading to the only exit. He sprinted after him, bow raised. Two arrows took off. One hit the doorframe, the other lodging into Cliffjumper. He grunted, however it didn't slow him down.

Rodimus skidded out onto the launch pad, preparing to fire again. But Cliffjumper had slicked away. He was gone. Mouth hanging, he lowered his bow.

'Nice going, Red Alert,' sad Hot Shot from the doorway. 'No wonder they call you that, everyone has to be on red alert when they're around you!'

'Shut up, you little slagger,' she snarled.

Brawn stepped out onto the platform. 'Well, Rodimus, you're the leader. What're we supposed to do now?'

* * *

Leaning over Brawn's shoulder, Rodimus sped read through the Space Bridge's log. The last tweak done by the crew stationed here – when they were alive, of course – was clocked at around eight days previous. Cliffjumper's arrival was automatically recorded at two megacycles ago. Just as Cliffjumper had claimed, the coordinates where he'd Transwarped from were in the same area of a desolate asteroid field, on the edge of Autobot territory. Good thing Rodimus had paid attention during that geography course.

After examining the evidence, Rodimus took to pacing the length of the room. Brawn spun around in his chair. Ironhide was next to him. Red Alert was perched on a console, legs and arms crossed. Hot Shot was cautiously rubbing the place where his injury had been. They were clearly waiting for him to start.

Being the leader was difficult. He was supposed to know how to fix problems on the spot. He was supposed to be fair, courageous, and willing to sacrifice everything for his crew's lives. He was supposed to keep their safety his first priority. Why was he even considering going after Cliffjumper and (or) the Decepticon? It was too risky, too selfish of him. What was he doing?

He had to speak.

'Okay,' Rodimus stopped and clapped his hands together. 'Okay. We got two options here. Option one: We contact Cybertron Command, explain the situation, and await further orders. Option two: We head out and look for Cliffjumper ourselves.'

The others exchanged looks.

'Well, this is stupid,' stated Red Alert.

'Define "stupid,"' said Brawn.

'We don't need a meeting for this, the answer is obvious!' she said. 'We're repair 'bots! Our directives have already been made clear. We contact Cybertron Command, and they can dispatch Autotroopers to "solve our problems!" Or maybe not, but at least they have a better idea of what they're doing! How would going after Cliffjumper benefit us?!'

'Because he seems to know more about the Decepticon, and that Decepticon sounds pretty dangerous,' said Rodimus. 'He could prove to be valuable. Cybertron Command will only be interested in detaining him, with no regard of what they may be able to learn. However, we do. If we don't report it and "disappear" ourselves, we could get a better grip on what's going on here. He is a fugitive, I know...'

'Hey, I don't blame the guy for breaking out!' said Hot Shot. 'I mean, from his track record, he isn't the kind to betray us. I'd try and break out if I was in his place. You know he nearly blew off my head for calling him a traitor when we first met!'

'I wish he had,' muttered Red Alert.

'Well, I don't think he killed that Intel officer,' Hot Shot continued.

'In any case, Sentinel's orders are clear,' said Rodimus. 'All sights are supposed to be reported.'

'We should report it,' said Red Alert. 'What's the point of this meeting again? Oh, wait, I remember now. It is my opinion that it would most benefit society if Hot Shot was melted into scrap metal...'

'Just think about it for a minute,' Rodimus interrupted her. 'Cybertron Command has been wrong in the past. Sentinel's been wrong. I don't buy all his stories about Cliffjumper being a maniac bent on "killing all Autobots." We ought to find out the truth for ourselves.'

'The truth doesn't cut it for Sentinel or anyone on the council,' said Brawn.

'You're not catching my drift,' said Rodimus. 'We're all forgetting the one variable here. Blurr.'

'Was that his name?' asked Hot Shot.

'Yes. Cliffjumper was a friend of his; I – I met him once, back on Iacon. Red Alert knew him.'

Everyone turned to Red Alert, only for her to stare off into space.

'While trying to find his body doesn't justify everything Cliffjumper's done, it's obviously...the cause of everything,' said Rodimus. 'If Cliffjumper did kill him, I want to know why. If he did, I want to confirm that. I want to know the truth about what happened to Blurr.'

'All this, for one Autobot?' Red Alert jumped off the console. 'Why can't anyone ACCEPT IT?! Blurr's dead! It's Cliffjumper's fault! Clear, plain, simple! We need to alert Cybertron Command of our position!'

'Look, Red Alert, but the time they get down here and sort out the politics, it could be too late,' snapped Rodimus. 'We're here now. We're in the best position to go tackle these problems.'

'We'll disobey orders!' said Red Alert. 'Last time I disobeyed –'

'_You_ disobeyed orders?' Hot Shot smirked.

'Shut the slag up! Last time I disobeyed orders, I got assigned to you guys! That's enough punishment for me. I want to catch Cliffjumper as badly as you, Rodimus, but I'm not going to ignore our programming.'

'Your programming is to be a medic. And since you're under my command, you wouldn't be the one getting in trouble.'

'But –'

'Enough, Red Alert,' said Rodimus. He looked over the team. 'I understand that this is asking a lot out of everyone, but I need your support. If Blurr is alive, he needs to be rescued. To not look for him would be abandoning one of our own. There is no justice for that. I won't irrationally accuse Cliffjumper of murder, but I just...I just need to know. I'm sick of being the repair crew leader being kept in the dark just because Sentinel can't swallow his pride.'

Another exchange of looks.

'Well, uh, I wouldn' mind goin' after Cliffjumper,' Ironhide spoke for the first time. 'Seems like a decent 'bot, and it sounds like this Blurr fellow is, too. If something's goin' on, I'd like to find out what.'

'Point taken,' said Brawn. 'And, to make it official, I think we should do an old-fashioned show of servos. Who wants to track down Cliffjumper?'

Brawn, Hot Shot, and Ironhide put their hands up.

'And who wants to report to Command?'

Only Alert.

'Sorry, you're outnumbered,' Brawn chuckled.

'I'm surrounded by idiots!'

'Nope, you're surrounded by pyromaniacs.'

'Shaddup.'

'It's settled then. Get ready. We better leave soon.'

Red Alert quickly approached him. Her expression was determinedly straight. However he sensed her rage. Rodimus wasn't too eager to talk to her, but the others were already walking away.

'You're mad at me?' asked Rodimus.

'I think you're making the biggest mistake of your life,' she growled. 'Trust me, Rodimus, nothing but trouble will come of this!'

'I know,' said Rodimus. 'Alert, please, try to understand –'

'I'm only coming along because I don't want to sit here and wait to hear if my best friend's been killed or not. But you're testing me, Rodimus.' She came up close to him, a finger to his chest. 'Oh, Primus, you're testing me!'

Alert turned on her heel and stocked off, aiming an unprovoked slap at Hot Shot as she past him. Hot Shot rubbed the side of his face and stared after her, as did the others. Rodimus tried to cover up the hurt he knew must be on his face. He had to hold it back. He'd let her cool off, than talk to her. Apologize. Perhaps he was making the biggest mistake in his life. But he was tired of pretending he didn't see anything wrong with this picture.


	10. The Abyss

**Chapter Ten  
****The Abyss**

Cliffjumper didn't stop running.

He had no idea _why_ Rodimus and his team were underground, and frankly he wasn't too interested. All that he really cared about was getting away. He didn't like how the medic suggested they dismantle him and take him to the upper world, and he also couldn't help but think that she was serious. He hadn't spent several megacycles on a bleak asteroid, with nothing but irritatingly crude Decepticons for company, just to return and get caught. That was far from his plans. They wouldn't take him alive.

His footing faltered. He slipped down the side of the pipe, grabbing hold of it just in time. Panting, he glanced where he'd just come from. The base was out of sight. No sign of a pursuit from Team Rodimus.

Cliffjumper twisted his arm in an attempt to get a better grip.

He grunted in pain. A glowing arrow was sticking out of his right shoulder. Rodimus's doing. Perhaps his choice of weapon wasn't so wimpy after all. He tugged it out without considering how painful it would be.

Cliffjumper stood. It was quite enigmatic in this area, thanks to the decreased lighting. He began to wish he'd paid more attention to the maintenance reports he'd gotten from down here. He wished he knew what he was doing...Well, a _better_ idea of what he was doing.

There was no time to worry about getting captured. Cliffjumper had decided on the asteroid where he'd begin, should he return to Cybertron. The place where the incinerator from Intel lead to. The great underground, where it therefore would await transport to the junkyard. He must be pretty deep beneath the surface. He hadn't had the time to review the records on the base's computers, thanks to Team Rodimus's untimely arrival. Than again, he'd been the one to capture them...Why had he taken them?

Anyways, it wasn't really important. The sooner he got to the "cube room," the better. But how was he supposed to get there? Climbing the pipes seemed to be a good idea, until he considered what it'd be like to fall right back down. Most of them didn't look stable. How had Team Rodimus arrived? They must've found an easier way. It was pretty obvious that hadn't come here on their own, which means they were following orders. Or rather, had been until they found Cliffjumper. A lift, maybe...

Why did he have the distinct feeling someone was watching him?

As if on cue, a slimy, wet mass landed right on his head. The bubble burst and instantaneously covered him.

'Yuck,' he muttered. He shook his hands and began to rub down his face.

Then looked up into a hideous, contorted face. It was the same Decepticon he'd encountered, alongside Team Rodimus.

'Uh oh,' said Cliffjumper.

He dived out of the way to avoid his immediate attack. Cliffjumper was on his stomach, only now realizing that a pipe was a very bad place to have a fight. Nonetheless, he whipped around and kicked the 'Con in the face.

Cliffjumper sprung. He punched an eye and unsuccessfully grabbed a claw.

The scorpion's claws reached around his torso. Cliffjumper struggled to get free.

_C'mon, gotta get out before he crushes me!_

But the 'Con didn't. Cliffjumper did a double take when the Decepticon, balancing on the pipe, proceeded to walk with him elevated high off the ground. He was being surprisingly careful. After giving him an irate look, Cliffjumper continued his futile attempts at sliding out of his grip.

'Let...me...go!' he demanded. 'You're gonna regret this! Where in the Pits are you taking me?! Let me go so I can beat your sorry 'Con fan belt all the way to the Galactic Rim!'

The 'Con dragged his face against the nearest pipe. Sparks flew. Cliffjumper struggled to push away. When the Decepticon finally lifted him to a safe distance, he had black marks all over his face.

'Is that all ya got?!' Cliffjumper swung his fists randomly.

Clicking, 'Con grabbed him by the ankle and dangled him over the edge. He swayed precariously over an endless pit.

'Coward!' He continued to aim punches towards the out-of-reach Decepticon. 'I dare you face me like a real 'bot! Come on! Put up you claws, you slag fragging Decepticon!'

He could've sworn the beast rolled his eyes. Still holding him by the ankle, the 'Con headed further down the pipeline. Where he was taking him? By the looks of it, the great unknown. Perhaps it was returning to his lair. There, Cliffjumper would meet his unfortunate end in his mouth. All the stupid stories of Megatron and some other terrifying Decepticons eating protoforms for breakfast seemed pretty real.

However, no matter how hard he kicked and threatened the Decepticon, it was clear it wasn't going to help. That didn't stop him from trying. If he didn't try, that'd be admitting defeat. And he wasn't ever going to admit defeat. Not to Team Rodimus, not to Cybertron Command, not to Megatron, not to his own weaknesses.

It was because of this pact that – for several miles in all directions, even amidst the regular clanging and hissing steam from the underground – that you could hear Cliffjumper's verbal and physical protests.

That's when Rodimus Prime looked to his team and examined the slight scarring on the pipe they balanced one He gestured for them to move forwards.

-

Cliffjumper felt the energon rushing to his head. He was pretty sure he'd pass out in a matter of cycles, but he wouldn't let that stop him! The Decepticon's claw became tighter around his ankle by the minute. It he didn't let him go, soon, he'd loose the foot altogether.

Not that it didn't really matter. He'd really like to get a better look at where the beast was taking him. All he could immediately see was that of the walkway swinging below him and the beast's looming shadow. Steam hissed up from all directions, a continuous fog that prevented him from seeing two feet in front of him. A harsh pulsing noise in the background gave him a constant headache.

Every so often, he'd get a sudden burst of energy and start struggling madly against the Decepticon. Then his body would go limp again. The pattern repeated itself in an endless fashion, his own limitations mocking him. There must be a way to end the cycle. He paused to catch his breath, feebly dragging his fingers across the walkway. Cliffjumper caught a glimpse of what was ahead of him. A wider, open area, with smooth walls extending skywards and back down to hell. It must be an shaft, once used for a lift. He recognized the stench.

Survival instincts kicked in.

'Okay, when I get down from here, I'm gonna kick your afterburner all the way to the Galactic Rim!' Cliffjumper croaked out. 'Just you wait and see! Hey! Are you listening?!'

Apparently, it was not. The Decepticon was now in front of the shaft, taking care to raise him far off the ground.

'This is your last warning!' cautioned Cliffjumper. He reached up to tug at the claw around his ankle, however help came before he could touch it.

Two golden arrows flew out of the steam. They hit the Decepticon's back, one bouncing off his armour, the other finding an exposed part. The Decepticon let out a small screech – more of surprise than pain – and spun around.

Rodimus, panting, emerged from the cloud, moisture sticking to his armour. Behind him was his entire crew; Brawn, Ironhide, Hot Shot, and the annoying medic who's name Cliffjumper thankfully didn't remember. The 'Con grip slightly loosened. It took a powerful kick to release himself, then Cliffjumper tumbled over to join his five former enemies, now his only comrades in this fight.

'I can handle this!' Cliffjumper lied.

'Sure, whatever you say,' said Rodimus. He raised his bow. 'Okay, now! While it's stunned!'

The mechs jumped the Decepticon. Behind them, the lone femme sighed and weakly punched the air.

'Go Team,' she muttered.

Ironhide – with his signature metal coating activated – took the lead. The Decepticon attacked him first.

The others sprang out from behind him. Rodimus leapt straight up and fired a barrage of arrows. Hot Shot and Cliffjumper came out from the side, going for the face.

Within the first strikes, something heavy hit him. He rolled over a few feet, sensing another body coming with him. The edge of the shaft came up quickly. Cliffjumper was teetering on the edge.

The second mass flew past him. He grabbed the servo. Hot Shot dangled treacherously, shaking and staring down into the black shadows beneath him.

He was _very_ heavy. Cliffjumper glanced sideways at the ensuing battle. Ironhide and Brawn did most of the heavy work. Hand-to-hand combat, their punches firm, and actually causing some damage. The Decepticon swiped his claws. Ironhide was caught between them. He pushed them apart, enough to distract him while Rodimus shot more arrows. The team commander approached from the side. Scorponok raised his wicked tail.

Cliffjumper tugged Hot Shot up with one pull.

'Watch it!' Hot Shot exclaimed.

Cliffjumper charged at the Decepticon, jumped, and grabbed the barb. The Decepticon flung him against the wall. It screeched and toppled sideways. Brawn had pulled a leg clean off his body. Ironhide was working at breaking the claws.

The Decepticon jerked around crazily, attempting to rid himself of the parasitic Autobots. Cliffjumper was tossed off. He landed next to Rodimus.

From the side, a firestorm hit the Decepticon at full blast. The four others backed away, Cliffjumper uselessly shielding his face from the sudden wave of heat. Hot Shot took a few steps towards the enveloped the Decepticon.

A claw came out of the flaws. It hit him.

The fire died down. Ironhide snatched the airborne Hot Shot.

The Decepticon was free of burns, but disorientated. No one dared to come any closer while the 'Con flung around his weapons without sight.

'I don't need help!' Cliffjumper hollered at Rodimus.

'Too bad, you have it!' Rodimus snapped. 'How do we beat this guy?!'

'Do I look like I know?!'

'Maybe if you stopped complaining that we're helping you...'

'Well, most of us are!' said Hot Shot. 'Hey, Miss. Perfect! This ain't a good time for a chemistry experiment!'

Cliffjumper glanced at the medic. She was bent over some makeshift vials in a safe corner.

'At least she listens,' Cliffjumper muttered.

Letting out a battle cry, he jumped back into action. Ironhide, Brawn, and Hot Shot quickly joined him in releasing a torrent of attacks at the beast. The latter did not hesitate in using its claw, hitting the walkway several times instead of its targets.

Between the punches, Cliffjumper glimpsed Rodimus approaching the medic.

'What are you doing?' Rodimus demanded.

'Trying to solve all our problems,' she said. 'And...Got it.'

The medic stood, examining a syringe full of molten gold liquid deployed from the end of her left arm. Cliffjumper instantly understood. He jumped onto Scorponok's back, pushed his fingers underneath a chunk of his armour, and tugged. The metal came flying off.

'Here!' he shouted to her.

Rodimus shot two arrows into the Decepticon's eyes. The medic darted forwards and stabbed him. The liquid drained.

The Decepticon, with the arrows still lodged into its optics, shook his head. Its claws snapped at Hot Shot, Ironhide, and Brawn – the nearest. Cliffjumper lunged off its back just in time. It moved backwards in a zigzag fashion. Finally, there was a scrapping as its back legs went over the edge. The rest of its body followed. Great, resounding clangs announced its rapid descent downwards.

Cliffjumper leaned over the shaft's boundary until it was out of sight. Everyone was panting, minus the medic. She smugly looked around.

'Once more, Red Alert saves the day,' she said. 'You know, if you all bothered to listen to me sometimes, we wouldn't get into so much trouble.'

'What was that stuff?' asked Rodimus.

'Oh, little something I whipped up on the spot,' said Alert.

Cliffjumper took note of how she didn't answer the question.

'I doubt it killed him,' Alert came to the shaft, next to Cliffjumper. 'But either this fall will or he won't be able to climb up. What's curious is why he didn't kill the traitor, who, by the way, we need to take back to Cybertron Command.'

'I'd rather jump down there!' Cliffjumper shouted.

'Ah, he's suicidal, too,' said Red Alert. 'I'll have to recommend psychiatric care...'

'WHAT?!'

Ironhide grabbed his arm before he could attack.

'We're not going to take you back to Cybertron Command,' Rodimus assured him. 'We decided...not unanimously...to help you look for Blurr.'

Now this was an interesting turn of events. Cliffjumper fixed him with his best "hate" look. 'I – don't – need – help!' he protested, showing him his fist. 'Blurr's my responsibility! You're not hogging the limelight!'

'I'm not around to be the hero, Cliffjumper!'

'Shaddup, the likes of ya!' Brawn stepped in. 'From the way you put it, Cliff, you want all of Cybertron to be lookin' for Blurr! Now five Autobots have just decided to take your side, and you're complaining about it! Slagging hypocrite!'

'I have nothing against you two,' Cliffjumper indicated Ironhide and Hot Shot. 'But those three? I'd rather go offline!'

'You can't let go of the past, can you?' asked Rodimus.

'Nope!' said Cliffjumper. 'You! Let me go, I'm not gonna go on a vicious rampage!'

Ironhide looked skeptical.

'Do it!'

After Rodimus nodded to him, Ironhide released his arm. Cliffjumper grunted and swung his fists at the air, like he was in a fight. (Causing the others to back off.) Panting, he began to pace in a wide circle, ending up staring down and then up the shaft. It was definitely abandoned. No lift in sight and the plating was rusted. There was no apparent way to climb. The junkyard must be a few miles above them.

He fixed on Rodimus.

'What's down here?' asked Cliffjumper.

Rodimus exchanged a look with the rest of his team. 'Uh, I'm not sure what you mean.'

'I mean – I mean what is all this stuff for,' Cliffjumper indicated the pipes. 'And underneath us. What's down there?'

'You mean the core?' inquired Hot Shot.

'...Core?'

'Yeah, the core of Cybertron,' said Hot Shot. 'Wheeljack keeps talking about it. They think that a core's causing a lot of problems. They think it's made of transwarp energy.'

Interesting, but useless. Cliffjumper scoffed. 'That explains a lot. How do I get back up?'

'Normally there's a lift, but, according to Wheeljack, all known exits are guarded,' said Rodimus. 'Why, Cliffjumper? What are you planning on doing? Whatever it is, it better not be...too illegal. And we're coming with you.'

'I...don't...need...help,' Cliffjumper turned on him. 'Stay out of this, Rodimus! All of you!'

'You know, if we return, we'll have to report this,' said Red Alert.

He cringed.

'Yup, and then we can explain how you killed that science team and how you took us hostage and how you have a nutty Decepticon as a pet! Boy, Sentinel's gonna _love_ this stuff!'

'There will be no need, thank you very much,' Rodimus said. 'Cliffjumper, you can't do this all by yourself.'

'Sure, you come along, and lead me straight into a trap!'

'That won't happen.'

'The Pit it won't! If there's one thing I learned, it's that anyone can betra –'

Something out of the corner of his optic caught his attention. Cliffjumper began to turn his head. A sharp pain hit him. Optics wide, he fell backwards into the shaft. The last thing he remembered was one of the Autobot's hands reaching towards him.


	11. Saluations To All My Enemies

**Chapter Eleven  
****Salutations to All My Enemies**

As his optics came back in focus, Cliffjumper found himself staring at a pile of garbage. He became aware of the background noise. The palliative beating of a machine's gears grinding in unison.

He sat upright, though this proved to be a bad idea. Cliffjumper grunted at the dull pain in his back, neck, and shoulders. Newly disturbed pieces of trash rolled down the mountain he was lying on. Beyond it, thousands more like his. He scrambled to his feet, trembling and his thoughts jumbled together. A mountain range of scrap metal and spare parts. Except for the occasional florescent light, the lonesome place was shrouded in darkness.

Cliffjumper hiked to the top to get a better look around. On queue, something heavy hit his head. What looked like a piece of armour hit the pile. Inclining his head up to see where it'd come from, he nearly lost his balance in the wake of a cylinder shaft. Trash rained down, trash that landed around him. He must've come down with it.

How had he gotten here?

He didn't remember much. There was Team Rodimus in front of him, fresh out of a battle with that annoying Decepticon. They'd been arguing about...them joining his cause. Yes, that sounded right. And then something sharp hit him in the neck...

Cliffjumper reached up. Upon contact with his neck, he gasped in pain and retracted the hand. What hit him?

Better question. Where was he?

Slaggit, his thoughts were disorganized. Cliffjumper rubbed his skull. Past and present mixed together. Blurr. Trying to get to the surface...Right, he was trying to get to the surface. He'd argued about that with Rodimus.

But he'd gone down, not up. Cliffjumper slid down the trash pile, attempting to estimate just how deep underground he must be. The logs he'd examined at the science station had told him that he was on Cybertron Sub-Level Negative Ten. Hundreds of miles from the surface of Cybertron. If that shaft was really as fathomless had it had looked...Pits, he could be beyond the point that any modern Transformer had ever explored!

Blurr. He was supposed to be looking for Blurr.

Cliffjumper kicked a few cans on the ground. There was hardly any solid ground to walk on. He'd have to watch his step – who knew what Autobots threw out nowadays. Could Blurr be here?

Judging by the reports, when the incinerator was broken, all the trash going through there was thrust into the junkyard. He'd always assumed that the junkyard was near the surface. Perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps the scrap metal was redirected into the deep underground, where it wouldn't be a problem for hundreds of years to come.

Cliffjumper shivered. There was that foreboding atmosphere again. He looked around carefully. Shadows – vague figures that came in and out of existence – popped out from all visible corners.

Glass and metal beat together loudly. Cliffjumper jumped and twirled around in a circle. Something hit him in the legs, sending him to the floor. He got prepared for a battle.

Cliffjumper gazed, in awe, at the 'bot scooting past him and towards the nearest trash pile. He'd never seen anything like it. This 'bot was square, had unseeing eyes, and moved around like it was completely automated. A huge bin was attached to its front. It began to fill it with trash.

'Hey!' Ciffjumper approached it. 'Do you run this place? You a trash 'bot, or something?'

The 'bot didn't reply.

'I'm talking to you!' said Cliffjumper. He waved his servo in its face.

Still nothing. The bin was full. It traveled with ease between the trash piles, like it'd done this thousands of time.

It _must_ be automated. But if it was automated, that meant someone had to be controlling it.

Cliffjumper made his decision quickly. He followed the drone. It took no notice of his presence. But wherever it was going, it was better than sitting here and doing nothing.

* * *

Did this thing plan on leading him aimlessly throughout the junkyard forever?

The upside was that Cliffjumper had more time to plan his strategy. He was convinced that Blurr's body must've been rerouted to this area. Either that, or it'd been transported to a junkyard far out in space. That _certainly_ narrowed it down. This was actually the best place to begin his epic search. The likelihood increased. His optimism grew stronger.

As far as he could tell, the junkyard was pretty much the same thing in all directions. His surroundings blended after a while. Oppressive atmosphere, putrid smell, and the continuous clang of machines somewhere in the distance. But every minute it the noise grew stronger and the drone pushed on at a constant, no-nonsense pace. Cliffjumper made sure to keep it in sight at all times. Though even if he lost it, he'd probably be able to find out where it was heading to by following the noise.

He hurried as the drone disappeared behind a pile. Cliffjumper turned the corner.

There was suddenly no land. Cliffjumper balancing on the edge of a sudden drop-off, instinctively reaching up in the hopes that something was there to grab. But instead he fell forwards. He went down several meters and hit a trash pile – head first.

With everything from his waist up covered, only Cliffjumper's legs were visible...and kicking.

Primus, this was humiliating. He screamed out a barrage of muffled curses. Just his luck. He came all this way to get his head stuck in a trash pile! Wait until he got out of here! He'd burn this pile into molten metal and then dump it on some deserving 'bot!

Something wrapped around his ankle. Cliffjumper let out another curse. Whatever it was tugging him out. He was thrust into the air and landed heavily. Expression humourously surprised, he looked into the optics of a drone. It let out a small humming sound and began to drag him down the trash mountain's side, with no regard that he was a sentient being and perfectly capable of looking after himself.

'Hey!' Clifjumper shouted. He pointed a finger at the drone. 'Do I look like trash to you?! Were your slagging creators stupid enough not to install a recognition program?!'

He kicked the drone. It released and moved on, as though it hadn't even registered what had happened.

Cliffjumper pulled himself up, albeit unsteadily. Bits and pieces rolled down to the ground a few more meters below him. He didn't want to think about what could've happened had he missed this pile.

Cliffjumper stood on one of the highest mountains. Before him, a valley stretched out for as far as the optic could see. Separate mountains of trash – lower than the one he balanced on – spread out like little buildings. It was apparent they did not end at the horizon. About a mile away was a trash compactor. But it wasn't like any compactor Cliffjumper had ever seen. A conveyor belt gathered up massive amounts of metal. They rolled down to the crusher, where they were formed into cubes and incinerated just beyond. He could see the flames rising up even from this distance.

He hoped that Blurr had escaped that fate.

Cliffjumper journeyed down the side of the pile. He now saw that he'd fallen off a sheer drop, separating what appeared to be the main bulk of the garbage from this more organized area. The drone traveled between these two places via a lift he'd failed to notice before...He quickly realized that it wasn't the last of its kind. Several others patrolled the area, little insects with, perhaps, a collective mind.

It was a plausible theory. He must be the first 'bot to set eyes on them in...well, centuries. Who knew if Cybertron Command was even aware of this place.

While surveying the landscape, he rested his eyes once more on the crusher. He did a double take. Right next to the machine was an obscure door with a covered roof, slanting downwards into the ground. At least he had solid evidence that some 'bot had worked down here...be it a hundred years ago, or in present time.

For now, it was the only way to go. Who knows? There might be some computers around that could help him narrow the search for Blurr.

Cliffjumper headed towards the compactor at a run. He dodged several drones in the way. They seemed to consider the great machine their home base. Once, he encountered about a dozen trying to squeeze through one narrow opening between two piles. Stupid things. They were definitely old. He vaguely reconsidered Team Rodimus's offer of assistance. That older 'bot – Brawn – sounded like he knew a lot about stuff that was in style before the Great War.

Cliffjumper screeched to a halt before the clearing that surrounded the compactor. A few drones skidded right in front of him, unresponsive like all the rest. He cautiously stepped into the open, half expecting an impending attack by the Decepticon.

The compactor was much larger than it'd looked from a distance. It was as high as a three-story building, swallowing the trash, crushing it, and throwing it into the incinerator where the conveyor belt ended. The heat was enough to put off any 'bot.

_Suck it up, already. _The discomfort was not relevant. Cliffjumper made a beeline for the door. A faded Autobot crest was printed on it. He grabbed the handle.

He jumped at the black splotch that appeared to his right. Another shadow. Cliffjumper re-evaluated the compactor. Innocent as it looked, he decided that it was untrustworthy. Another darkness appeared to his left. He spun to face it, taking a step back. The temperature decreased rapidly.

'What in the Pits is causing this?!' he said.

There was a tap on his shoulder. Cliffjumper, arms flailing, screamed.

But upon spinning around and examining the area wildly, he saw nothing.

'When I find out who's behind all this...' Cliffjumper muttered.

No more delays. He charged at the door and grabbed the handle. It took a few good tugs before it swung open. White light was cast upon a staircase.

The door slammed behind him. On the top step, and in near total darkness, Cliffjumper tried to estimate just how far it was to the bottom.

Cliffjumper headed down blindly, but swiftly. He used the walls as guidance. The staircase went straight down, with no bends or curves. He could swear it got narrower...

And it was discernible that it was made for smaller 'bots, perhaps ones of his model. The corridor was the perfect size for him. But he doubted that anyone taller – like Rodimus or Ultra Magnus – could fit in. It supported his working theory of a repair crew once operating down here. The old saying was that Cybertron Command preferred short engineers, who were usually very expendable.

Cliffjumper was going so quickly that he hit the end at full force. He grunted and was pushed backwards. Recovering, he felt out the wall. There was a door handle. He put his full weight against it. Eventually, it caved it and he stumbled forwards.

He was momentarily blinded by a blue glow. Shielding his eyes, Cliffjumper sought for something to lean against. He soon found a railing. From what he could tell, he was standing on an elevated walkway that extended endlessly to both sides

Upon adjusting to the light, he nearly fell off.

A hundred feet down there was an ocean. A clear, electric blue ocean, the shade resembling that of the traditional Autobot blue. The surface appeared to be glass. Or was as smooth as it – he really couldn't tell. The longer he stared, the more he noticed. Black stains occasionally flicked across the surface, like fish swimming just underneath the surface of a pool. Whatever it was, it had a spark beat. The pulse was so muted that it was easy to overlook, unless you concentrated.

The ocean extended outwards, beyond his range of sight. Cliffjumper leaned far over the railing to get a better look. He then noticed the tubes.

Enormous tubes were just within arm's reach of the walkway. They came straight down from the metallic ceiling – where the sea's glow was reflected – and went straight through the surface. The tubes were placed at calculated intervals. Too perfect to not be 'bot made. But, like everything he'd seen as far, it was very old.

...This had to be that core Hot Shot had mentioned.

He'd never really paid attention to the layout of Cybertron. Frankly, he hadn't found it all that interesting. Neither had Blurr, so it wasn't like he had a back-up plan. But he supposed he shouldn't be _too_ surprised that the core seemed to be made of transwarp energy, which – by the way – must be theoretically impossible.

_Okay, think. What do you remember about transwarp energy?_

Let's see. This had to be a massive buildup of transwarp energy. From the looks of it, this had happened for a few hundred years. (That sounded right.) This must also be the source of power for most of the planet.

Cliffjumper leaned further over the edge. It was kind of mesmerizing. The transwarp ocean seemed to swirl and move. Upon reflection, it was like being very high on oil. If he looked hard enough, he thought he saw a black mass swimming just underneath the surface...

Odd...

He shook his head. What the Pits was his thinking? This obviously wasn't of any use when it came to finding Burr.

Cliffjumper moved further along the platform.

Blurr. Blurr. Where the _Pits_ could he be?! How far could a piece of trash go?!

The air exploded. Rubble rained down on him, coming with it a horrible mixture of screeching and clicking. A claw emerged in the confusion and clamped him around the waist. He flailed his limbs. The walkway underneath his feet – as well as the eerie glow from the core – drifted away. Cliffjumper came face-to-face with the scorpion's ugly features. The Decepticon had burst clean through the roof and now carried him past a series of holes.

Automatically, his priorities changed from finding Blurr to trying to break out of the beast's custody.

Cliffjumper didn't want to stick around to find out why the Decepticon was intent on capturing him.

* * *

For millions of stellar cycles, this place had evaded Autobot and Decepticon optics, alike. The beast didn't even pause to bask in the staggering engineering fleets they past at top speed. Cliffjumper, himself, didn't get the time to really register them. Trapped in between the claws, he kept aiming for the face, however it was more of a habit. He stared at the storage rooms packed to the ceiling with spare bits. A room designed like a prism. Non-functioning computers of extreme, complex designs. The Ministry of Science would have a field day. And while Cliffjumper wished he hadn't _ruined_ his reputation among them so he could assist in an investigation, he shouldn't be focusing on what could've been.

The Decepticon had, apparently, learned from the confrontation with Rodimus. He kept Cliffjumper at a reasonably safe distance from his face, yet his grip remained unyielding. Whatever he intended to do, he was dead serious about it.

Cliffjumper lacked the energy to hurtle witty insults. He did push against the claws. At the moment, it seemed like the only thing he _could_ do. The Decepticon didn't want to hurt him too badly; that much had become clear.

A final attempt to pry open the claws. Cliffjumper, panting, grimaced at the six-eyed, perfidious beast.

'Where the Pits are you taking me, 'Con?' he asked, for what felt like the millionth time. 'Don't pretend you're stupid! I know you can understand what I'm saying! I want to know what's going on?! I'd rather die in a skirmish than be taking prisoner, you hear me?! You better let me go!'

The Decepticon didn't falter. He pattered through a corridor gradually getting narrower. Florescent tubes were aglow in the corners, shedding little light on his situation. The scorpion was running blind.

'Hey, I'll cut you a deal,' said Cliffjumper. 'You let me go, and I'll give you a ten second head start!'

Once more, the Decepticon did not respond.

'...Fifteen seconds?'

The Decepticon came to a stop. Right below him was a trap door. For the first time, he made eye contact.

'Twenty?'

It whooshed open. Cliffjumper was flung downwards. He hit something hard at full-force. ("Something hard" being roughly defined as "the floor.") But he was up almost at once. In one sweep of the room, he spotted the Decepticon rearing his ugly head out of the trap door. Cliffjumper leapt, preparing for the attack. The Decepticon had slid back into the tunnel and the exit was now barricaded.

Screaming in frustration, he paced back and forth right underneath the trap door. He quickly realized that it was futile. The Decepticon intended for him to stay put. Cliffjumper attempted to piece together why the Decepticon was so interested, anyways. Team Rodimus had been right there, yet he only seemed keen on taking him alive...So humiliating.

Cliffjumper looked over his shoulder.

He was in a control room. Consoles lined the walls, below gaping windows. Monitors on either side of the door displayed digital thermometers measured things Cliffjumper didn't even know. In the background, the sound of a low, thudding spark beat. Hesitating, he went to the edge of the consoles, pressed his face against the glass, and stared down at the massive sea of transwarp energy below.

There was only one other exit out. Cliffjumper charged at the heavily bolted doorway.

It didn't move. No matter how hard he tugged at the handle, it wouldn't move. Cliffjumper backed away momentarily and kicked it violently.

Aside from the trap door, that seemed to be the only other exit. Once again, Cliffjumper approached it at a sprint, part of him knowing that it was hopeless. And it was; sealed, the keypad next to it nothing but a jumbled mess of exposed wires and broken controls. A feeling that he was missing the big picture, here.

He hated staying stationary like this, trying to figure out a puzzle he couldn't solve. Cliffjumper started walking parallel to the consoles, one servo on the computers. Well, limping was more like it. He only just noticed the sharp pain running up his left leg, no doubt that Decepticon's doing. Not to mention his arm still burned from Rodimus's arrow. Hadn't noticed that either.

But this was no time to be thinking about that. Must worry about it later.

As soon as he completed his overview of the walls, Cliffjumper returned to the middle. He rubbed his chin. It was time to go to plan B. Find out why he was here. If he found that out, he might be able to devise some sort of elaborate escape.

Both exits were sealed. Someone wanted him to stay here.

The Decepticon had knowingly captured him alive and brought him here.

It was a no-brainer that the Decepticon may have the capacity to register who Clifjumper was, yet he couldn't be smart enough to devise this plan. If he'd wanted to eat him, he would've done it a long time ago. The Decepticon was still quite primitive. Someone must be doing the thinking for him.

This was all too big a coincidence. The Blurr cube, if it really was down here. Deep underneath the surface of Cybertron. Having got there by random chance, via the broken incinerator. Normally, all trash not incinerated was dumped into space. Well, maybe the load Blurr had been with that day was shipped off. But maybe Blurr wasn't with it. Maybe someone had taken him from that load. Maybe they recognized him.

But Blurr wasn't around Cybertron that much. Not anymore, he was always off the planet. Certainly he couldn't know anyone working in the waste industry.

So who else knew about Blurr?

That was easy. Shockwave. Who else but the murderer?

Had anyone actually seen Shockwave following the attack on Ultra Magnus? Where would he go? No Space Bridges could've been activated. The whole net was down, and he certainly didn't have the knowledge to hack into the system. (Even if he did, accessing a Space Bridge would prove to be a problem.) No ships had left the planet following the lock down; Cliffjumper had reviewed the report, himself. If he was a Decepticon stranded on Cybertron, where would he go?

Well, there was only one logical place. Down.

Cliffjumper came to a horrid realization.

His fears were confirmed five seconds upon coming up with it.

A shadow emerged. It loomed over, swallowing him, and sent chills up his spine. Cliffjumper spun around, fist ready. A clawed hand grabbed it and raised him off the ground. He looked into the cyclops before him.

Several feet taller than the Longarm he knew, Shockwave's red eye reflected Cliffjumper's steadfast expression. Two horns stuck out on either side of his head – for show, no doubt.

Slagging show-off. He was completely faceless. Except for the eye, there was no mouth, no expression. Really quite a shame. Cliffjumper would've liked to see a grin falter as he kicked him in the face...

However, kicking him in the face proved to be unsuccessful and futile. Shockwave tightened his grip on his hand. Cliffjumper raised the other arm to hold onto his shoulder, rather instinctive, as he feared it might tear off at any second. Cliffjumper used his legs to try and get at him.

'It appears you are a devoted employee,' drawled Shockwave. 'While under my Autobot guise I might have been pleased to see you down here, Cliffjumper, I am thankfully free of that pathetic identity. I am Shockwave.'

'I KNEW THAT ALREADY, YOU FRAGGING TRAITOR!' Cliffjumper grunted. 'Put me down! Wait until I get my servos on you, you're gonna regret the day that you came online!'

'You would attack me? I hope you are not forgetting who saved your career.'

'Saved _my_ career?!' he laughed. 'You call being a secretary a CAREER SAVING favour?! Sentinel could've done better! Just you wait, just _you_ wait, I'll pound that stupid eye of yours right outta your head! Then you'll get shipped off to the stockades where more Autobots can slag you! And you'll deserve every CYCLE of it...'

'And I used to think you were quiet,' muttered Shockwave, simultaneous with his rants.

Shockwave casually threw him to the floor. Cliffjumper scrambled to his feet and charged. The Decepticon held out a hand. He easily ricocheted off, back into the wall. His knees gave out. On all fours, he was only capable of giving the traitor his best dirty look.

'You should realize that you will never be able to defeat me,' said Shockwave. 'Not even those weapons you acquired from Lockdown would have been reliable in a battle with me. After all, Ultra Magnus –'

'Excuse me?!' Cliffjumper snarled. 'You attacked Ultra Magnus from behind! You cheated, traitor!'

'I did what was necessary, keeping in mind that this is war. And when you are at war, you do what is necessary to ensure victory. What is considered "fair" is illogical."'

'Oh!' Cliffjumper said, waving a finger at him. 'Just you wait until I catch my breath!'

Shockwave was evidentially unmoved. Cliffjumper had to keep him talking.

'How did you get that Decepticon to do your dirty work, traitor?' he demanded.

'Scorponok?' asked Shockwave. 'Ah. Him. He tumbled through a Space Bridge quite some time ago. I observed him from these monitors as he slaughtered an Autobot repair crew. Scorponok was very confused and slightly injured. I offered him shelter, in exchange for information. It was tricky, but I managed to invent a decoding system that helped me understand his highly developed language.

'Scorponok, you see, is the results of a genetic mutation caused by Decepticon scientists. He understood what I had to offer. I told him that he could work for me. This is our agreement. He obey my every command. I keep my end of the deal, shielding him from the prying optics of Autobots.

'I was surprised when I saw you emerged from the Space Bridge...I never got the impression you liked that method of transportation. But I immediately dispatched Scorponok to retrieve you, preferably alive. Dispose of any other Autobot that interfered as he saw fit. Megatron will be most pleased when learns that I have recaptured you'

Cliffjumper stiffened. 'What do you mean?'

'I may have been head of Cybertron Intelligence, but I was not a close friend of Sentinel Prime,' Shockwave explained. He approached the desk, placing his two clawed hands on it. Cliffjumper only now took note of the personal sized computer, with other contraptions about it that appeared to be dismantled weapons. 'I admit that I don't know everything about the command structure of Cybertron Command, despite my years of experience with it. You can fill in the spaces. Yes, as a prisoner, you are extremely valuable. One can only wonder the great lengths the Autobots will go to gain custody of you. Of course, all that would take place after you are formally questioned.'

'Geez, haven't you gotten the news?!' Cliffjumper said. 'I'm loyal to the Autobots! I'll never reveal any of our secrets!'

'Even after Cybertron Command arrested you?'

'Cyberton Command doesn't speak for my whole race!'

'"My whole race?"' Shockwave scoffed. Rounding the table, he regarding them with the aloofness of a superior being. Cliffjumper couldn't bring himself to stand. 'How prejudiced. But unsurprising. As a matter of fact, I find you Autobots to be amazingly hard-headed. You do not consider compromise. You do not think about who the Decepticons are. Megatron might have been willing to create a treaty in the past...The Autobots should be held directly responsible for your actions. You're a prime example of your "race," as you word it. Very intelligent, yes. Very powerful. But you lack all passion. Which is why the Decepticons shall ultimately win.'

'Crimes of passion go no where!' hollered Cliffjumper. 'You think killing 'bots is going to get anywhere?! Like you killed Blurr?!'

Shockwave had been looming over him, slowly leaning closer. As Cliffjumper said this, he paused. With a small "hmph," he regained his usual, straight posture.

'So that is why you returned to Cybertron,' said Shockwave, more to himself than to Cliffjumper. 'I suspected it, however I had no evidence. Tell me, Cliffjumper. What would you do if you were infiltrating the Decepticons for the Autobots? And what would you do should a Decepticon come close to uncovering your true identity? Hm? What would happen next?'

Cliffjumper knew what he was getting at. Curling his hands into fists, he made sure to look anywhere but that red eye glinting in the blue light. Shockwave returned to the desk, no doubt reveling in seeing him in such a weakened state. Cliffjumper was too exhausted to attack or even come up with a retaliation to the Decepticon's words.

'I will admit, Cliffjumper, I admire your perseverance,' said Shockwave. 'In past times, under the codename "Longarm," I considered you to be a friend. Believe it or not, a part of me wants to give you a second chance. You already know what will happen, even if you do prove your innocence to the Autobots. Your reputation will be permanently tarnished. But as a Decepticon...Well, you'd receive honour. Megatron would be most willing to reward you for any information you might be able to provide. You could abandon your Autobot identity and gain a knew one. One that shall always be remembered. Isn't that what you always wanted, Cliffjumper? Isn't one of your greatest fears is that you will be remembered only in a negative light, or be forgotten altogether?'

Cliffjumper felt like some 'bot had just slapped him silly. It became uncomfortably warm in the room. After a dreadful silence, he shook his head. His usual snarling expression returned strenuously.

'I'm loyal only to Autobots,' he said. 'I'd rather die.'

'Hm,' Shockwave turned his back on Cliffjumper.

This was his chance. Cliffjumper sprang to his feet and leapt. Shockwave swung one arm and pushed him back. He was rummaging in the cupboard. As he was about to get up and attack again, he froze. Shockwave turned, holding an object in his hand.

It was a cube. At first, it looked like garbage. But then Cliffjumper looked closer. The paint was bright blue, though parts of it were chipped off. Even closer, and Cliffjumper spotted a crack in it. A faint glow was coming from inside.

Shockwave moved the cube in one direction. Cliffjumper followed it.

'Now, I require your cooperation,' said Shockwave, 'or else Blurr shall truly go offline.'

Cliffjumper's fists shook violently.

He wanted to reach out, grab Blurr, and run for it. But that apparently wasn't going to happen. Not when Shockwave had the helpless, cubed Autobot in his claws; when he had the upper hand.


	12. Hide

**Chapter Twelve  
Hide**

Rodimus sprinted through the doorway without any regard for what may be on the other side. They appeared on a walkway, suspended in the center of a metallic prism. The walkway went in three other directions, disappearing into three doorways, into three other locations and who knows where they went. He stopped in the middle. Brawn appeared at his shoulder, panting, closely followed by Hot Shot, Ironhide, and then the lagging Red Alert. Rodimus stepped towards the edge and peered over the side.

It was easy to say that if you fell, you would be trapped here.

'Got any more bright ideas?' asked Red Alert.

'Let it go, Red Alert,' Rodimus said. He stepped into the center of the crossroads. The walkway had odd markings cross it, like a creature traveling through here had gripped at the metal with its sharp claws. 'That scorpion was here. He must have Cliffjumper with him.'

Looking up again, he saw that the claw marks could be found in all directions. It was impossible to tell where the most recent tracks led to.

'Question is, where'd he go?' Rodimus turned back to his team. 'Any ideas?'

'We could split up,' suggested Ironhide.

'I don't want to split up!' exclaimed Hot Shot. 'There's only five of us! One of us would have to go alone! Besides, "safety in numbers?"'

'Nobody's safe with _you_, slagging pyromaniac,' said Red Alert.

'Splitting up it is,' Rodimus said.

'So what?! My opinion doesn't matter?!'

'Ironhide and Brawn, you go to the left,' directed Rodimus.

'Hello! Protesting Autobot over here! Anyone hear me?'

'Hot Shot and Red Alert, straight through. I'll head right.'

'Hot...Hot Shot?!' spluttered Red Alert. 'Oh, no, you don't! You're not sticking me with Hot Shot! If anyone's going alone, it's gonna be me! I'm not dealing with any other idiots! I work best alone!'

'Who's to say you ain't gonna contact Cybertron Command?' inquired Brawn.

She looked like she might explode. 'Fine!' Red Alert threw her hands into the air. 'I solemnly swear I won't contact Cybertron Command! You're just going to have to take my word for it.'

Red Alert crossed her arms, as if to say: "My mind's made up."

'If you say so, Alert,' said Rodimus. 'Hot Shot and I will go into the center. Red Alert, you head to the right. Keep an open com link and don't even think of touching anything that looks like it might blow up. We meet back here in precisely one megacycle. Keep your optics open. Knowing Cliffjumper, he's escaped and put up so much of a fight, he's injured. Alert the rest of us if you find him. Got it?'

Everyone nodded.

Team Rodimus split up. Rodimus hesitated in the doorway he had assigned to himself and Hot Shot. He'd thought he spotted another brief flash of darkness...Whatever was causing it would have to wait. Rodimus transformed and went after Hot Shot.

* * *

He made sure to keep his optics shut, despite wanting to jump up and defend himself. Weakened, he was. But his pride had been bruised already. His rage made him stronger. That was his belief. And Shockwave would regret the day he'd taken him captive. He'd get revenge.

Cliffjumper pried his eyes open. His world was sideways, lying where Shockwave had left him when he whacked him over the head. (Slagging traitor.) The Decepticon had his back to him. He faced an open cabinet. Where Blurr must be. In his hands was the mighty Magnus Hammer. Cliffjumper was tempted to jump him now and retrieve the weapon _and_ Blurr. But he couldn't summon the strength into his legs. Perhaps if Shockwave stood there for a few more minutes, relishing in the glory he would shortly loose. But he began to turn his head. Cliffjumper snapped his optics shut.

The floor vibrated under Shockwave's heavy footfalls. He sensed him walking over, stopping right by him. Cliffjumper wanted to grab his ankle and flip him, while he was able to.

The base of the Magnus Hammer narrowly missed his head. He tried not to flinch.

Silence. As his spark beat fluctuated, he dared not check if Shockwave was still looming over him.

'Hm.' There he was.

Shockwave clambered away. Further. The door opened and shut. Cliffjumper waited for a few more seconds, just in case. Only then did he lift up his head. The monitors blinded him, though in truth they weren't really that bright. He was lucky that Shockwave really had vacated the premises. It couldn't be for long. Who knows when the Decepticon would return. And when he did, he had to be ready.

Shakily, he used the table to get back on his feet. Cliffjumper moved across the room, just to test his movements. They were stiff and very forced. He was beginning to doubt he'd ever be able to take Shockwave. But he had to try.

Blurr.

His strength having suddenly returned, he darted across to the cabinet.

Cliffjumper peered upwards.

On the top shelf was the cube, perched high above so it could see the whole room. Cliffjumper scrambled up and tugged him down. The cube was awkward and heavy, difficult to pick up. But somehow it was warm.

He jumped to the floor, holding the cube in his hands.

A wide grin sneaked across his faceplate. Double checking that he was along, Cliffjumper squeezed it.

Thousands of emotions hit him at once. Relief that Blurr was still alive. Joy that he had found him. Satisfaction that he'd fulfilled what he had sworn to do. His silent promise to Blurr that he would return to Cybertron as the 'bot he once was. No Decepticon would ever bring him down. Shockwave didn't matter! Blurr was alive! Cliffjumper inwardly began to dance.

But his wide grin was short lived. The door slid open. Shockwave stepped out. Cliffjumper glowered at him, adjusting the cube under his arm.

There was no need to say anything witty or clever at this point. To both of them, one thing was very clear. Shockwave's bargaining tool was now in the hands of an Autobot.

Cliffjumper went to the back of the room. Okay, he had Blurr. He just needed a way out. He needed to get back to Rodimus's medic, as she was the closest doctor around.

Cliffjumper looked upwards. The pipes running parallel to the sealing, nearly hiding the trap door, were clustered together like the branches of trees. He glanced at Shockwave.

Jumping on top of the nearest console, he leapt up into the shelter of the protective pipelines. Shockwave's claws barely grazed past his ankle.

He knelt on a walkway that could barely accommodate him. He kept his breaths steady. He only moved when he needed to. Space was limited. Two feet behind him. Five feet ahead. No way up, and the Decepticon prowling somewhere below. He pulled the cube a little closer.

The ground right underneath him jolted.

Three razor sharp claws struck clear through the metal. Cliffjumper scrambled backwards. The claws appeared again, nearer this time. He jerked his body into an awkward arch to avoid the next strike.

Claws clamped at thin air before carefully retreating. It took a while before he dared to lower back onto all fours. He braced himself.

'You cannot stay up there forever, Cliffjumper,' said Shockwave's voice.

'Watch me!' Cliffjumper snarled.

Claws cut through metal once more. Cliffjumper was pinned against the wall, unable to move to a better position. He reached out and grabbed them. They clinked together like silverware. They attempted to disappear into their holes like little insects. Cliffjumper momentarily put aside the Blurr cube and used both hands to pull at them.

'You aren't talking me alive!' Cliffjumper exclaimed. 'Just you wait until I tell Cybertron Command you're down here! I'll be leading the team!'

'I'd like to see that.'

'You will, trust me!'

Shockwave tore his claws out of Cliffjumper's grasp. Cliffjumper peered down the hole at the Decepticon underneath. He glanced towards the blue cube sitting next to him.

'Your actions from this point forwards must be in the interest of that cube you have with you,' said Shockwave, catching his eye and flexing his claws. 'Therefore, you must be seeking out a medic. You don't want to fight me. You want to get past me, however you will not unless you take offensive measures. Your most logical course of action in this situation would be to surrender now and hand it over. I will see to its needs.'

'Of course you will, you're just an all-around nice 'Con! Either you step aside or I really will have to fight ya!'

'Excellent. Perhaps you will put up more a fight than Blurr.'

Cliffjumper drew his hands back into fists.

But his voice was lost in a wailing alarm. His first thought was that he'd accidentally set off some safety procedure, that in a few seconds the room would close in on him and he'd be crushed to his death. (The only comfort in that being he'd take Shockwave with him.) But he then noted that it was coming from the various computers. The one-eyed traitor approached it, flicking past several screens before pausing. Security footage showed a femme traveling down a corridor. (They all looked so alike, it was impossible for Cliffjumper to pinpoint where.)

It was Red Alert.

Cliffjumper tucked Blurr underneath his arm. His aiming was perfect. He landed on the computer, right in front of Shockwave, and kicked him in the face. Cliffjumper did a back flip. In two kicks, two more monitors cracked, fuzzed out, and died altogether.

'I'm pretty sure you tackled Blurr from behind, like a coward!' he accused, pointing a finger. 'Why do ya have him in the first place?! Wanted a trophy?!'

Shockwave clutched the Magnus Hammer. He brought it down. Cliffjumper tumbled out of the way and backed against the wall.

The Hammer came from the side. Cliffjumper ducked. They were at a standstill. He edged towards the door, his only hope.

Shockwave swung the Hammer in one smooth motion. Lightning strikes emanated from it.

He followed its movements, tailing it, too horrific to look at, yet too beautiful to resist. Wild rings formed around Shockwave. The patterns changed with each nanoclick. The Autobot was frozen under the hypnotic influence.

But inside Cliffjumper knew what Shockwave intended to do with his new power over electricity.

He bolted.

Cliffjumper threw his shoulder against the door, knocking it over. He scrambled to his feet and headed for the trap door. The glow behind him grew stronger. Energy coursed in the air. He bolted across the walkway, the iron grate beneath his feet shuddering in his walk.

An explosion behind him announced the release of lightning.

Nearing the corner, Cliffjumper glanced over his shoulder and spotted Shockwave joining him. The Decepticon aimed and fired. He dodged. A sering hot lightning strike grazed past his horn.

Another glance backwards.

Shockwave wasn't pursuing. Instead, a being emerged from the opposite end of the walkway.

The scorpion had returned. Scorponok took his place beside his master.

'Kill him,' directed Shockwave.

Scorponok let out a creaking laugh.

Cliffjumper transformed. Scorponok dived at him. He touched down with the force of an earthquake. Knocked into the air, Cliffjumper landed unsteadily and sped off.

The next corner was too tight. He nearly slammed into the wall. Scorponok did. But the 'Con ricocheted off it and flew over his head.

Returning to robot mode turned out to be a bad idea. Scorponok knocked the cube out of his hands. He pushed him down.

_NO! C'mon, Cliffjumper, GET UP!_

Cliffjumper rolled over, grabbed the cube, and dodged Scorponok's incoming strike. He used the claw to propel himself to the other side. Seconds later, the red Cybertronian car retreated from a possible battle.

Scorponok was closing in surprisingly fast, his vicious snarls no doubt translating into insults. There was a ladder up ahead, going upwards into the labyrinth of pipes. He transformed back.

His hand was two inches away.

A heavy mass tackled him from behind. Back arched, he frantically reached behind to get at Scorponok. He was pinned against the floor.

'Slaggit!' Cliffjumper cursed. A shadow came over him. He back kicked Scorponok before he could get any closer.

Out of the confusion, a ladder appeared. Cliffjumper lunged at it and scrambled up a few feet before prying open a trap door. He swung through into a relatively still corridor. That is, until he scrambled through and rushed on ahead. Scorponok barely managed to squeeze through and follow.

The dead hallways of the underground base groaned in the vicious pursuit. There were no escapes. No corridors branching off. No more ladders. There was nothing! Everything was completely blank, taunting him, silently laughing and waiting for Scorponok to finally capture him.

Meanwhile, the Decepticon seemed intent on spreading terror. While he was fully capable of killing Cliffjumper right now, he kept his distance.

He prayed to Primus for a way out. If not for his sake, than for the sake of the 'bot currently contorted into the shape of a cube.

Then his prayers were answered.

A hallway to his right. It was narrow, with random pipes running from wall to wall. Cliffjumper ducked into it. Scorponok couldn't follow. He turned out of sight, his pattering against the floor promising that the hunt was still on. Cliffjumper pressed forwards, swinging underneath the pipeline, focusing on the opening ahead.

He burst into the open. He went two feet before running into something tall...and orange.

Both Ironhide and Brawn turned around.

'What the frag?' said Brawn.

Cliffjumper got back to his feet, picking up the fallen cube. 'Run!'

'Run?' repeated Brawn, blinking stupidly. 'From what? What did you do now? Do you know we've been looking for you all over this slagging –'

'Don't say I didn't warn you,' mumbled Cliffjumper. He was about to take off, when Ironhide's sturdy hand snagged his upper arm. 'Let me go! You don't get it! Scorponok's on my tail!'

'Woah, you're running from a fight?' smirked Brawn. 'That's a first.'

'I'm not running from a fight!' said Cliffjumper.

There was a resounding bang. Brawn and Ironhide looked around wildly. Cliffjumper shoved the cube into Brawn's hands, wordlessly taking off in vehicle mode.

It proved effortless to find the sort of the noise. He whipped around two corners, finding Scorponok prowling at the end. Cliffjumper honked. The scorpion turned. He sped off. Blindly, he led his enemy deeper into unknown territory.

Door up ahead. Spare metal beams were mounted on the nearest wall.

His only chance? Seemed plausible. Either he got rid of Scorponok or Scorponok got rid of him.

Cliffjumper did a sudden turn. He transformed back. On his way through the door, he grabbed a beam. He only had a second to look around. Large place. Open air up high, down low, and at all sides. The walkways crossed.

He darted towards the center. Scorponok had to be close behind him.

A dark figure flew over his head. The figure he'd feared was right on his heels was now flying in front of him. He attempted to turn back. Something caught his heel.

He landed heavily. The walkway tilted. Cliffjumper fell backwards. Steel met steel, Scorponok fighting against the beam that acted as the only thing keeping Cliffjumper from death.

Weight pressed down on him. The walkway's edge appeared in the corner of his eye.

Cliffjumper pushed the beam forwards. It was forced back down. His arms shook. Someone called his name. He did a double take. Rodimus sprinted down one of the other walkways, arrows to his bow. This was their chance.

Claws swung.

He jerked the beam.

The arrows lodged into the back of Scorponok's neck. Cliffjumper twirled the beam. There was no time for the beast to react. It hit his side at full force. The 'Con stumbled. Two more streaks of light hit him. Another strike and his feet slipped over the edge. Rodimus now joined him.

They threw their bodies against the scales. Scorponok jerked around randomly. More servos appeared, pressing against the huge lump. Someone grunted. A burst of heat came out of no where. The walkway underneath the monster disappeared. Cliffjumper nearly went over himself, it wasn't for Ironhide grabbing him at the last possible second.

Cliffjumper collapsed against the walkway and stared down a shaft that narrowed at the bottom. Scorponok hit it and slid down.

He was joined by every member of Team Rodimus. Nobody spoke, as though afraid to be the first to break the silence.

'Is he...Is he dead?'

Hot Shot was right next to him, panting heavily. His flamethrowers were still deployed.

'I can't tell,' said Rodimus.

Scorponok's leg twitched.

'...But, if he isn't, he won't be able to get out,' concluded Rodimus. 'Nice thinking, Hot Shot.'

'Finally, some appreciation,' said Hot Shot.

'I appreciate you shutting up,' snarled Red Alert.

'Like you're the hero,' said Brawn.

Ironhide chuckled and offered a hand to Cliffjumper. He gave him a sturdy look before accepting the assistance.

Cliffjumper gasped. 'The cube! Slaggit! Where is that thing?!'

'Relax, you gave it to me, remember?' Brawn reminded him. He held up Blurr, though it was unlikely that Brawn actually knew what this meant.

Cliffjumper took it from him. The great silence that followed was both relaxed and tense. Relaxed because Scorponok was no longer a major threat. Tense in the aftershock of the adrenaline rush. They all lounged out on the walkway. Not a good place to catch their breath, with the (unconscious?) Decepticon far below them. But no one really cared.

'What...What is that, Cliffjumper?' Rodimus finally said.

'This,' Cliffjumper held up the cube, 'is Blurr.'

Rodimus frowned skeptically at the shell.

'That's impossible!' exclaimed Hot Shot.

'Yeah, Blurr's dead,' said Ironhide.

'I'm telling you, this is Blurr,' Cliffjumper beamed. 'And the only evidence there is showing that I ain't a killer! I took it from Shockwave when he tried to capture me –'

'You mean, tall, dark, and sadistic Shockwave?' asked Red Alert.

'What the Pits have you been doing?' said Brawn.

'More than you.'

'You wanna say that to my faceplate?!'

'C'mon, Cliffjumper, that can't be Blurr,' objected Rodimus.

'How would you know?' growled Cliffjumper. 'This is the same "sensitive material" Shockwave ordered me to dispose of who knows how many megacycles ago. This is Blurr. You don't believe me, have your medic take a look at it. I know I'm right.'

Rodimus turned to Red Alert. 'Can you confirm it?'

She gestured to Cliffjumper. He passed over the cube. Red Alert caught and examined it with the naked optic, her expression...perplexed. After a while, she shrugged.

'Will we contact Cybertron Command?' she asked.

'...Yes,' said Rodimus.

'Okay, fine,' Red Alert sighed. 'But I'll need access to medical equipment and A.I.D. That means we need to head back up to the base.'

'Alright than, let's head back the way we came,' said Rodimus. 'We better go now. If Shockwave really is in the area, I don't want to be around. And Cliffjumper...I want an explanation.'

Cliffjumper was about to protest, even refuse to return with them so he could extract revenge on the Decepticon. But one glance at the Blurr-cube dissuaded him. His job was to protect him. He didn't trust Red Alert. He didn't trust any of these Autobots. They didn't understand. Cliffjumper had to make sure Blurr was alright and would get the attention he needed. Revenge could wait.

He glanced back at the door he'd first emerged from. For now.


	13. Blurr Cubed

**Chapter Thirteen  
Blurr Cubed**

It took about as long as could be expected to return to Team Rodimus's base. Cliffjumper discovered that they had taken a lift to get down to the level they were currently on; an old, rickety one he wasn't too sure he trusted. After that, it was a tiresome hike up a couple dozen levels, the lighting getting brighter with each step, several stops to allow the group to recuperate for the next stretch, and finally back to their starting point. To be quite frank, Cliffjumper found the journey painfully long. Each precious moment counted if they were going to help Blurr. At times he thought that Rodimus - who led the way - was being slow on purpose.

Not only that, Rodimus had insisted that he relate to the team all of the events that had taken place after they'd been separated. He conveniently left out the part about the core of Cybertron – instead spinning a daunting tale about exploring an abandoned base. While everyone seemed to accept the story, Rodimus seemed...suspicious. He kept glancing at him without commenting, grimacing and his optics mere slits. But whatever he thought, Cliffjumper hoped he'd keep it to himself.

Approaching the entrance to their base, he immediately shoved all those worries behind him. A med bay and a doctor. The tangled mess of an Autobot's body in his hands. He had to entrust him to Red Alert. If not, he'd never see Blurr again. He'd never feel satisfied.

-

'Hold still!'

'I'd prefer it if you were working on Blurr instead of me,' said Cliffjumper, voice forcibly steady.

'Well, guess what?' Red Alert pushed him back onto the examination table. 'You got damage! I see a damaged 'bot, I'm gonna repair him! Now stop complaining or I'll disconnect your voice box!'

He crossed his arms and looked away, Red Alert let out an infuriated growl, muttering ferocious curses while she worked on his leg.

Cliffjumper supposed it was useless to argue, anyways. Everyone – Ironhide, Brawn, Rodimus, Hot Shot, Red Alert, even Cliffjumper to some extent – were all still skeptical that the cube sitting on the other examination table was the crushed body of an Autobot. Several wires and tubes had been connected to it. The nearest computer blinked at calculated intervals. They had not told him, but he already knew. They were trying to confirm that this was Blurr using the Autobot database.

'This is a waste of time, you know!' Cliffjumper snarled. Sparks flew as she wielded a instrument, apparently meant to weld his leg back together. (And that's about as far as his medical knowledge went.) 'What are you doing? Trying to cut my leg off?'

'Don't worry,' piped up Hot Shot. 'If she amputates, another one will be delivered in six to seven solar cycles!'

'Not this discussion, again,' said Red Alert, not looking at him. 'I mean, what was I supposed to do, Hot Shot? That leg couldn't stay like that – it was bound for the scrap heap!'

'Maybe if I got my second opinion...'

'Hey, knock it off,' Brawn said. Cliffjumper hadn't even realized that he'd wandered off from the group, and now approached them with a grave expression. 'Cybertron Command just contacted us. Absence didn't quite go unnoticed. They want to talk to you, Rodimus, and I suggest you hurry. They've already threatened to get Sentinel on line.'

'You better not tell them anything,' said Cliffjumper.

Rodimus looked at Cliffjumper. Then at the cube. And back.

'We've had some technical difficulties,' said Rodimus. 'We tell them the whole story later.'

This said, Rodimus followed Brawn back to a monitor at the far side of the room. Cliffjumper was at Red Alert's mercy.

-

Despite himself, Cliffjumper tested his repaired leg. Admittedly it did feel more flexible. All scraps, chips, and dents had been punched out. But cleanliness never lasted. Not nowadays.

The team had gathered around the examination table where the cube still sat innocently. Red Alert was reviewing the results of diagnostics she'd run while repairing Cliffjumper. Every intent optic, every skeptical glare, he hoped would be soon dismissed. He'd be proved right. They would no longer consider him the fugitive he rightfully was. Perhaps a medal was in order...Or perhaps he was getting ahead of himself.

Red Alert stepped away from the console, her expression totally blank. 'Well, old red was right. The A.I.D. confirms it. This cube here is Agent Blurr, high ranking officer for Cybertron Intelligence, current status: missing in action.'

'I told you so,' said Cliffjumper.

'Are you sure?' inquired Rodimus.

'Hey, don't doubt the database,' Red Alert said. 'Gotta admit, once you look for a while, you do see that it kind of looks like it was once a 'bot. Primus, I feel sorry for the guy. I'd hate to be thrown into the compactor.'

'What now?' asked Brawn. 'Can you fix him?'

Red Alert rubbed her chin, facing the body. 'Eh...That I'm not too sure of. You know, Wheeljack and Perceptor would be useful in this situation. They designed him. That's the tricky part, see. Blurr is unique. His mold is one in a million, so it isn't going to be an easy task putting him back together. What I can do, personally, is limited. But if we get Wheeljack and Perceptor involved, they might make the big difference.'

'What can you do without them?' cut in Cliffjumper.

'Make him look less like a cube and more like an Autobot,' said Red Alert. 'Essentially, I'll pull him apart...Spread out the pieces so I can see what I'm doing...But who knows what could happen. His spark might not even be in there anymore.'

'He still has his colouring,' said Cliffjumper. 'Everyone knows 'bots turn grey when they go offline.'

'...Yeah...Yeah, you have a point,' Red Alert leaned against the examination table. 'But you have to understand one thing. This has never happened before. No 'bot has ever survived being thrown into the compactor. I can't really tell the extent of the damage until I get in there.'

Cliffjumper opened his mouth, closed it, and finally looked away.

'But judging by his current appearance, I'm not optimistic. There is no promise that he'll survive. Get it? I'm not some sort of super genius.' Alert turned to Rodimus. 'I'll get working on him. I think it'd be best to explain the situation to Perceptor and Wheeljack and get them down here.'

Rodimus rubbed his chin. 'Cliffjumper, what do you want to do?'

'Oh, c'mon, you're putting Blurr's life in his hands?!' asked Red Alert.

'He found Blurr,' said Rodimus. 'Seeing as Blurr can't talk at the moment, I believe. Cliffjumper can act as his spokes 'bot until he can. Well, Cliffjumper?'

Cliffjumper fixed him with a blank stare. He remembered Wheeljack. Knew him by reputation and sight, and perhaps he'd once spoken to him. The 'bot at the trial had been hesitant to speak against him. And why had he been there to begin with? Wheeljack wasn't part of the council. There was a probability that he'd requested to become involved.

Then there was Perceptor, who'd subtly aided in his escape. Would logic prevail? He had no emotions – how would that effect his judgment? Would he alert Sentinel to what was happening down here or join Wheeljack?

They designed Blurr.

'Contact them,' Cliffjumper decided.

'Do what he says,' Rodimus said to Brawn. 'Timing's important here. Hot Shot, you monitor the beacon signals. If anyone approaches, I want to know. Brawn and I will talk to Wheeljack.'

'I need your help, Ironhide,' said Red Alert.

'What?' exclaimed Ironhide, apparently surprised at being suddenly addressed. 'Why? I ain't a medic.'

'Someone needs to help me un-cube this guy.'

Ironhide shifted uncomfortably. '...Do I halfta?'

'Suck it up!' Brawn shouted from the other end of the room.

Everyone rushed past to their stations. Cliffjumper stepped forwards. 'What can I do?'

'You can stay out of my way,' Red Alert shoved past him. 'Alright, Ironhide, here's how it's gonna work. I find, you pull.'

All of a sudden, Cliffjumper wasn't too eager to watch this. He walked the length of Team Rodimus's base, staying clear of the monitor Brawn and Rodimus were bent over. Hot Shot appeared bored. He was mildly inclined to go talk to him. But he past him, as well. He past everything until he got to the front door. Nobody had noticed him. They were too wrapped up in their assigned duties. (Minus the daydreaming Hot Shot.) The door opened. Still nobody questioned his actions. And with that, Cliffjumper stepped into the blazing labyrinth beyond. He stood beside the door, checking both directions. Since nobody else seemed concerned about a possible attack by a Decepticon, looks like it was up to him to keep everyone on edge.

After all, this was Shockwave they were talking about.

-

Cliffjumper shrouded his body in shadows. The pipelines proved to be useful in masking where his crouched, prepared to leap out at the intruder. Friend or enemy, they were approaching. He'd already dedicated himself to protecting this facility. Thankfully, only his Autobot blue eyes could be seen, blinking, focusing on the nearby vehicle, and then leaping out in front of it.

The vehicle – bulky, white and green, with the Autobot insignia imprinted on the hood – screeched to a halt. It transformed. Cliffjumper only came up to a place a little above his knee. However that didn't stop him from putting his hands on his hips and giving the 'bot a threatening stare.

The Autobot blinked down at him. 'Hm. So Rodimus wasn't bluffing.'

Cliffjumper was not moved.

'Nice to see you again, Cliff,' said Wheeljack. He held out a hand.

Cliffjumper hesitated before shaking. Despite his size, Wheeljack was surprisingly careful. The stiffness of the shake indicated that he was doing his best not to crush his servo, dwarfed in comparison.

'You going to help put Blurr back in one piece.'

'Yes,' said Wheeljack. 'Truth be told, I...thought Rodimus was lying when he said you were down here. Mirage confessed to sending you halfway across the galaxy. Wouldn't tell us anything else. Sentinel send a small squadron to go out and look for you. He'll be pretty surprised when it turns out all that work was for nothing.'

'Hm.'

'How did you get back?'

'Plasma...something...thruster.'

'You mean a plasma dynamic thruster? Odd, we believed that if a transwarp took place down here, it'd cause an explosion or a disturbance of some sort,' Wheeljack mumbled. 'But anyways, where is Blurr? Do you know how he's doing?'

'Ask Red Alert. She's the one tinkering.'

'I don't like the sounds of that. When she was younger, "tinkering" usually meant that she was taking something apart.'

Cliffjumper smirked and gestured to the door. They entered together, past the consoles, towards the little corner set aside for medical emergencies. Cliffjumper stopped short.

Red Alert was leaning over a disfigured Autobot. At first glance, it looked like a heap of scrap metal. But then Cliffjumper saw the twisted fingers, the exposed spinal cord, a chest that had a huge rip in it. One leg was gone at the knee. The other contorted. He recalled witnessing the dissection of a Decepticon body back at the Academy. Actually touching its internal systems, and taking pleasure in seeing one of their enemies meeting such a gruesome end. This was different. Instead of a stern Decepticon faceplate, he saw Blurr's. His optics weren't alight, merely black splotches. His expression straight. The armour dented. And his pointed helmet forcing Red Alert to lay his head at the side.

All of Team Rodimus was staring at him. Wheeljack shortly joined them, exchanging a brief nod with Alert. Cliffjumper stayed back. He felt like he was going to be sick.

'Where's Perceptor?' asked Red Alert.

'He said it'd be a better idea if he stayed on the surface,' explained Wheeljack. 'To keep an eye on Sentinel, if you know what I mean...Dear Primus...Blurr. It really is Blurr.'

There was a silence.

'I thought, maybe some dents...didn't think it would be like this,' Wheeljack whispered. 'What's...What's his status?'

'Well, most of his internal systems are slagged; they'll need to be replaced,' shrugged Red Alert. 'But his spark seems to be just fine. Not as strong as it should be, but...stable. Fix the damage and I don't see any reason why he should be unconscious.'

'His processor?'

'I don't know. I was afraid to examine it without you being here.'

Afraid of what she might find, sounds more like it, thought Cliffjumper.

'But according to the activity levels...' she trailed off. 'It's not...you know...'

Cliffjumper spared a glance towards the readings displayed on a monitor right above the examination table. He didn't know everything, but he knew enough to know that brain activity was extremely low. Might as well be brain dead, most likely in a coma from which he would never wake up. The horrid truth settled down on him.

'Let's get started.'

Cliffjumper knew it was probably a good idea to leave the room or look away. But he had to keep tabs on this.

'You guys realize I can't keep this a secret,' said Wheeljack, reviewing the scans. 'I'll need Perceptor's help. And where Perceptor comes in, comes Cybertron Command.'

'In that case, I don't want Perceptor or Sentinel getting involved,' Cliffjumper crossed his arms.

'Figured you would.'

'And I'm not going to the stockades, either.'

'You're not going to the stockades,' Rodimus assured him. 'One thing's pretty obvious here. The seven of us are in this together. We have to make Cybertron Command understand why Cliffjumper did what he did. Wheeljack, what is the status of Ultra Magnus? Is he any closer to regaining consciousness?'

'Closer,' Wheeljack said. 'The other day he was actually coherent. Slipped back into it, though. I think we'll just have to buy ourselves a few days.'

'We need to tell them about Shockwave, don't forget,' said Brawn. 'If Cliffjumper wasn't lying.'

'Slaggit, Shockwave's down here, I tell you!' Cliffjumper waved is arms frantically.

'Will you quit that?!' Brawn shouted. 'We're on your side!'

'What we need is a really good excuse to keep C.C. at bay,' said Rodimus. 'Is it possible to simulate a breech of some sort?'

'Nah, they're send inspectors down here,' Wheeljack said.

'If we cause some damage and hide Cliffjumper –'

'Woah, I'm not hiding from anything!' Cliffjumper protested.

'I wouldn't mind hiding him and Hot Shot,' said Red Alert.

'I mind!' piped up Hot Shot.

'Look, when we report to C.C., we come clean,' Brawn said. 'That's the best way to do it.'

'I'm with Rodimus. I say we simulate an accident.'

Cliffjumper sighed and checked his internal clock. Might as well return to the unnecessary sentry duty. He'd rather be staring at nothing than listening to this slag. Cautiously, he backed away from the bickering group and slipped out the door before anyone could stop him.

He took up position on the immediate right of the sole exit. Sure, there were security beacons, but he always trusted the naked optic more than anything else. As a matter of fact, he recalled that he hadn't fully believed himself when he told everyone Blurr was alive. Everything he'd done up to this point – facing the trial, some lying, going against his own kind – had all been for that cube just in the other room. And what was Red Alert telling him? That there was a slim chance anything could be done?

Preposterous.

That's what they'd said in the Great War. That nothing could be done about the Decepticon threat. And yet the Autobots had won, albeit by randomized circumstances. By a slim chance.

Therefore, he wasn't about to give up on Blurr. That was part of the pact they'd made so many years ago. They'd sworn to look out for each other when nobody else would. Of course, other 'bots might have forgotten about a pact they made with a "childhood friend." But not Cliffjumper. Boy, would he have a story to tell Blurr when he got back to his old self!

Another story to add to the books. They'd been such troublemakers back at the Academy. He remembered one time they'd sneaked their professor a concentrated dosage of oil. Cliffjumper had kept him distracted, pretending to be confused with their most recent assignment. And while that happened, Blurr zipped in and out of the room in a matter of seconds. The next class had been such a blast, and when the teacher came out of it, he didn't even remember.

Though the fact that he'd gotten a new paint job – a pleasant shade of pink – kind of betrayed the prank.

He remembered that day well, because that was also the day he first met Sentinel.

Cliffjumper half-blamed Sentinel for making him and Blurr drift apart. But he shouldn't really be blaming him. Sentinel was a good friend when he wasn't being a complete glitchhead. He'd earned himself quite the reputation back at the Academy. (He had attended around the same time as Cliffjumper and Blurr, being approximately a year ahead of them.) Sentinel followed the rules. Cliffjumper admired him for that. He admired Sentinel not only for his physical prowess, but for his respect of law and justice.

Blurr didn't like that.

Following a prank involving a holographic image of Megatron and Sentinel screaming like a little femme, the two of them had gotten chewed out. Not just by their professors. By this student, who thought he was so superior to them. Cliffjumper and Sentinel had a good verbal fight, each one besting the other with remarkably witty insults.

Then they went out for a drink and a night on the town.

Cliffjumper quickly grew not only to admire Sentinel, but like him as an individual. Sentinel was a hero 'bot. He described to him how he once braved a planet full of organic spiders. One of his friends had been killed that day, thanks to an ex-friend of his who had gotten expelled from the academy. He also described to him the day he'd gotten promoted and sent to work for the Elite Guard. From there, it grew. Cliffjumper had been there to see his friend climb to the top, until he was working directly under Ultra Magnus. Until he helped Cliffjumper get the personal assistant job for Intel, after it turned out that he wasn't suited as a field agent. Until he made new friends up top, like Longarm Prime and Mirage.

All this happened while Blurr was pretty much treading water. He graduated from the Academy, having earned a lot of respect from his classmates. But he wasn't mature or powerful like Sentinel. Blurr was still the same lively 'bot Cliffjumper met on day one.

Eventually Blurr got what he wanted. He became an honourary member of the Elite Guard, though he was still an Intel agent at heart. They sent him on a lot of away missions. The speedster tackled Decepticon bases, sniffed out hot spots...Sure, they still hung around. But their conversations grew rushed, much like Blurr came to be. Blurr came to have a strong need for speed. Cybertron moved too slow for him. Soon, the missions became so long and so far away that Cliffjumper rarely talked to him anymore.

One day, Blurr came back to Cybertron, asked to meet with Cliffjumper as per tradition. They went out to a bar. Blurr described his amazing travels to the Galactic Rim. Cliffjumper sat there with nothing more than stories about how he alphabetized some files that morning. How he tailed Longarm around with a notepad and was present at interrogations.

Cliffjumper was the first to bring up the issue.

'We never talk to each other. You never send mail, you're always so restless...it's driving me crazy. Listen, the times we had in the Academy were great, but that was a long time ago.'

Blurr looked at him, like he was looking at a ghost.

'Let's face it. I think we should just give up.'

Blurr's mouth opened slightly.

'We're not friends anymore. I think we outgrew each other a long time ago.'

Blurr was apparently (amazingly) speechless. There was a long silence, filled only by the noise of the bar in the background and the drunken ramblings of Autobots dousing their troubles. He swallowed and nodded stiffly.

That was the moment they agreed that they weren't friends anymore. They did a quick handshake and walked away from each other.

Cliffjumper never really pondered the subject. He hadn't really thought about Blurr, except for when he was bored – like now – with nothing to do but sit at the office. That's when he thought about the tricks they'd pulled. How Blurr would trip over his own feet and Cliffjumper would help him up. Then Blurr gave him tips on espionage assignments. Those were good times.

Cliffjumper tried to think about extracting revenge on Shockwave. He tried to picture him dying at his hands. But then – in this lucid daydream – Shockwave would somehow escape and held the cube triumphantly above his head, threatening to crush him. Cliffjumper realized that he couldn't move. He could not move because Blurr was in danger. This 'bot he wanted nothing to do with was in danger.

He went over this time and time again, until he opened his optics and found himself still underground, waiting for news of Blurr. He was beginning to forget why he'd risked everything just to help him.

-

Cliffjumper took a deep breath. Moment of truth. To his right, Brawn frowned. To his left, Ironhide chuckled. Across, Hot Shot swayed back and forth, so excited he was surprised that the kid hadn't burst into flames.

He picked up another card.

'Slaggit!' he said.

Ironhide leaned in to Brawn. 'You think he's bluffing?'

'Course he's bluffing,' said Brawn.

'What if he ain't?'

'Then Primus help us all.'

Ironhide hesitated. 'I fold.'

'Yeah, I second that,' Brawn laid down his cards.

'Kid, it's just you and me,' said Cliffjumper. 'You can back out now, if ya want.'

'Slag, I told ya he was bluffing!' Brawn exclaimed.

'I never back down,' Hot Shot smirked.

Cliffjumper placed down his cards. 'Four of a Kind. Beat that.'

Hot Shot revealed his own. Cliffjumper's mouth fell open. 'Royal Flush.'

'SLAG!'

Hot Shot laughed and pulled his winnings over to his nearest pile. Cliffjumper slammed his forehead on the table. Fifth time loosing in a row.

'How the slag does he do it?' he asked Brawn.

'I've been asking that question for years,' said Brawn.

'Gentlemen, I was just gifted from the day I came online,' Hot Shot said.

While Hot Shot loudly celebrated his victory, Cliffjumper chanced looking back at the makeshift med bay across the clearing, in the shadow of the Space Bridge. Rodimus, Wheeljack, and Red Alert were all speaking in low terms. Perhaps the others couldn't hear them, but if they settled down for a minute, he might be able to pick up the words.

'Alright, who's up for another round?' asked Hot Shot.

'Not me,' said Ironhide.

'Ditto,' Brawn grumbled. 'I bet you're cheating...What's with you, Cliff?'

'Trying to hear them.'

'Hm,' Brawn looked towards the others. 'They've been like that for the last few cycles. Alert and Wheeljack must've found something by now.'

'Shh, I'm trying to listen,' snapped Cliffjumper.

'– nearly destroyed,' Wheeljack finished a sentence that Cliffjumper only caught the last of. 'The things that are working...It's...It's really bad. He'll be lucky if he ever wakes up at all. See, his helmet sort of caved in on itself.'

Wheeljack indicated Blurr's slagged helmet. Cliffjumper hadn't seen it up close, but could just picture what it looked like. You might not be able to tell what was armour and what was his naked processor.

'He's in shutdown. I doubt he'll wake up.'

Cliffjumper's eyes widened.

'There's nothing we can do,' said Red Alert.

'There has to be something,' Rodimus whispered.

'Perceptor and I might be able to transfer him to another protoform; another body,' said Wheeljack. 'But that isn't what Blurr would want. Who knows what kind of emotional trauma will be leftover.'

'And the thing is, even if he does miraculously regain consciousness, we don't know what effect this resurrection will have on his personality,' went on Red Alert. 'He might wake up a totally different 'bot. Not to mention amnesia. Most of his memory files are in tact, but bits and pieces – vital pieces – are damaged beyond repair. A lot of his life will be big place spaces, though some things will trigger certain memories. He'll need extensive rehabilitation, and I don't like the sounds of those hospitals.'

'If he does wake up, Cybertron Command will consider him an important witness in Cliffjumper and Shockwave's case,' said Wheeljack. 'They'll never let him go back to his old work. You two probably don't know this, but Blurr loved his job. He'd never be happy being forced to stay on Cybertron.'

'His spark's weak, too,' Red Alert pointed out. 'Ahead of him, there's surgeries, there's medical tests and procedures, there's interrogations from Cybertron Command...It's all slag.'

'We have to do what's best for Blurr,' said Rodimus.

'Well, the best thing to do might be to just...'

'Take him off spark support?' Cliffjumper repeated. 'Oh, that's does it. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!'

He jumped to his feet. The trio turned in his direction.

'NOBODY'S taking Blurr off spark support!' he yelled.

'It's an option!' retaliated Red Alert. 'I don't think you get what exactly we're dealing with, here!'

'Oh, I know, all right!' Cliffjumper stormed across the room, until he was mere inches from the femme. She clenched her fists and refused to budge. 'You're giving up! I can't believe you're just gonna give up like this!'

'I see now, you'd rather see Blurr suffer than live a good life,' said Red Alert. 'How quaint.'

'Why you –'

He was lifted off the ground in a tight bear hug. Cliffjumper punched Ironhide in the face, with no effect.

'I said I'd crush ya,' said Ironhide.

'We're not giving up,' Wheeljack cut in. 'Letting him go offline'll be our last resort.'

'Let him go offline, and we'll be giving into Shockwave! I'm as sure as the Pits not giving into that motherboardf fragger!'

'He just said we aren't giving up,' said Rodimus.

'You don't UNDERSTAND! I can't let him go offline, after all I've done to save his sorry tailplate! This is all my fault! It's my responsibility to make sure he doesn't go offline just because the rest of you are acting like slagging protoforms! So either you find another option, or I'll beat you so hard –'

'Get it through your skull, numb node!' Brawn snapped. 'Blurr ain't gonna die without a fight!'

'Yeah, shaddup, 'cause your ranting isn't helping,' Red Alert snarled. She came within two inches from his face. 'GOT THAT?!'

'Sure I get it!' said Cliffjumper. 'I know that you don't care about what happens to him!'

'Of course I care, I'm a slagging medic!'

'Lemme go so I can show her who's boss!'

'Ironhide, take him outside!' Rodimus barked.

'Gladly,' said Ironhide. Carrying Cliffjumper, the latter kicking madly, he headed towards the door.

'Yeah, beat it!'

'Alert, you're not making this easier –'

'I'm not making this easier?! Did you see the way that little slagger –'

Their voices were cut off at this point. Ironhide set him down on the walkway. Cliffjumper growled, fists shaking. Apparently seeing what was about to happen, the security 'bot adopted his metal outer shell. Cliffjumper punched him in the chest. He did it a second time. Soon, his arms were like blurs. Needless to say he exhausted himself pretty quickly and took a step away from Ironhide.

Behind him, the walkway hissed. If he listened closely, he could still here Red Alert going off on another rant.

'Feelin' better?' asked Ironhide.

Cliffjumper panted. 'Do I look like I FEEL BETTER?! They're gonna take Blurr off spark support, and nobody cares but me!'

'...That isn't 'xactly what they said, no 'fense' said Ironhide. 'Ya know, I'm just a country 'bot, but from where I'm standin', seems to me like you'd get more 'bots on your side if you stopped attackin' others.'

'"Attacking?!" You take that back!'

Ironhide shrugged. He re-entered the base, briefly letting Red Alert's raised voice out into the open.

Cliffjumper kicked a random pipe once he was alone, not caring if it was important or not. He just knew that he wasn't about to let them kill Blurr. Not after all this. It was his job to ensure that the others exhausted all their efforts until Blurr walked out of here alive.

* * *

When Rodimus sent Red Alert out to apologize, he expected her to act civilized. After all, when coaxed to do so, Alert could actually pull of a decent act. But that's what it was. An act. Phoney. She rarely – if ever – apologized, so why should he have expected her to treat this any differently?

She returned looking angrier than before. With Blurr between them, she began hitting the buttons on a personal computer with unnecessary force.

'Well?' asked Rodimus.

'Well what?!' she snapped. 'I don't like him, he doesn't like me! Plain and simple! How did he overhear that conversation, anyways? What does he have? Super hearing?! Big woof! He thinks he's so superior –'

'I won't say his actions weren't over-the-top,' said Rodimus. 'But you could've...you know, been a little more courteous. Cliffjumper was just a little upset that we were considering taking Blurr off spark support.'

'So I should go easy on him 'cause he's grieving?!' Red Alert said. 'HA! I pity you, Rodimus.'

There was a pause. Rodimus leaned against the examination table, staring into the blank optics of Blurr.

'How is Cliffjumper, health wise?' he inquired.

'He's fine,' Red Alert concluded, not looking at him. 'Stop worrying about him! He doesn't deserve to be worried about! I mean, he seems to have a high tolerance of pain anyways, and his injuries aren't that bad; oh, why are we talking about this?! Why do you care?!'

'I meant his mental health. How do you think he's doing?'

'He's insane, that's what! I'd say he's loosing it! I'm making sure that slagger goes straight to a psychiatric hospital!'

Red Alert grumbled some inaudible words.

'How about Blurr?' asked Rodimus.

'He's a dying 'bot, that's what, Rodimus,' said Red Alert. 'Perceptor better hurry and get his fender down here. If anyone can help him, he can. But then again, they might bring with them a whole squad of Autotroopers. Sentinel's a jerk, but he ain't stupid. He's going to get pretty suspicious once he hears where the two of them wandered off to. Maybe he'll even end up sending us to the stockades for hiding Cliffjumper. It could go either way from here on out. In any case, Cliffjumper's only going to make things worse.'

'...Maybe I should go talk to him.'

'Good grief, Rodimus, I can't believe you're falling for it!' Red Alert exclaimed. 'Cliffjumper's only looking for attention. Don't encourage him!'

He was already halfway across the room. Brawn, Ironhide, Hot Shot, and Wheeljack – in the middle of a poker game – watched him go.

'Rodimus!' Alert shouted.

He was in the doorway. Alert huffed something that sounded like: "typical mech." Rodimus left the building without another word.

Tink.

Rodimus paused. The pipes above, below, and straight ahead all hissed. There was another soft tink coming from further down the walkway. He headed towards the noise.

Cliffjumper was sitting on the bottom step of a staircase that ran alongside the wall of the base. As Rodimus approached, there was another tink as a bolt hit the floor. Cliffjumper dug through a pile in his hands; rusted bolts that had long outgrown their usefulness. He aimed carefully. A bolt flew through the air and landed in a bucket on the other side of the walkway. He did it a second time. The third missed.

Frowning, he looked at Rodimus. He shrugged indignantly.

'What?' he demanded.

'Nothing,' said Rodimus. 'I just want to know what your problem is.'

'Geez, I thought you were supposed to be the nice one,' Cliffjumper threw another bolt. Once more, it missed. 'Keeping in mind that I hate you, too. And if you're coming to tell me that you've decided to take Blurr off spark support, I won't let you. Not in a million stellar cycles.'

'That isn't why I came out here. As for Blurr, Red Alert says that there still might be a chance Perceptor can do something for him. I want to know why you're so wound up on this! I mean, most Autobots can grudgingly accept it when a friend dies. Imagine how they felt back in the Great War! Autobots lost their friends every day! I would've thought you would take it well, but – Primus – you have to be dramatic! I don't like the result, either, but let's face it. Blurr's going to go offline, and there's nothing anyone can do to change that.'

Cliffjumper didn't look at him, keeping a straight face. The bolt he threw landed in the bucket, dead-on. He turned to Rodimus.

'Let's make a theory,' said Cliffjumper. 'Have you noticed all those shadows we've been seeing? Like a 'bots just going around the corner, but they were too quick for us to see?'

'...What does this have to do with –?'

'Play along with it, Rodimus. For once in your pathetic life.'

Rodimus sighed. 'Okay, this place is haunted. What about it?'

'One of these shadows...I've seen it up close. I think it's Blurr.'

'...I see,' Rodimus rubbed his chin. 'Well...I guess that makes sense...But what exactly does this "Blurr shadow" have to do with anything? These things could easily be...I don't know, projections or - or hallucinations.'

'The Blurr shadow wants me to follow it.'

'How can you be sure of that?'

'Since I've been out here, I've seen it at that corner,' Cliffjumper pointed even further down the walkway, where there was a turn-off point. Rodimus stared at it for a while. If he concentrated, he could see a brief flash of darkness. But the next cycle it was gone. 'Every so often, it reappears and gestures for me to follow. I think it might know how we can save Blurr. Maybe – way back before the Great War – there were medical devices that could help him now.'

'That's a far-fetched theory, Cliffjumper.'

'Yeah, well, I got nothing better to do,' Cliffjumper abruptly stood. He transformed.

'Wait a nanoclick, are you serious about this?!' Rodimus exclaimed. 'Where do you think you're going?!'

'After the Blurr shadow.'

Cliffjumper, wheels screeching, reached the corner. Rodimus reached forwards.

'You can't go wandering around down here!' said Rodimus.

'Watch me!'

Rodimus stood, frozen, as the car disappeared. He stared at the ground, at the pile of bolts Cliffjumper had left behind. Groaning, he, too, transformed and chased after him at top speed. He caught sight of him upon turning the corner, catching up in mere seconds.

'Wherever the Pits you're going, I'm coming with you!' said Rodimus.

Cliffjumper grumbled something, however seemed uninterested in putting up too much of a fight. Rodimus hoped he wasn't kidding about the Blurr shadow.

And if he wasn't, Rodimus hoped that the Blurr shadow wasn't leading them into a danger zone.


	14. Behind Door Number One

**Chapter Fourteen  
****Behind Door Number One**

Cliffjumper couldn't help but get the feeling that someone was luring him into a trap. That someone could only be Shockwave. Perhaps he was tricking him by inducing hallucinations of Blurr. And with the possibility that Blurr would never wake up, it was up to Cliffjumper to ensure one thing, and one thing only before he could hauled to the stockades.

Shockwave paid.

Paid with his own life.

'Where precisely are we going?' Rodimus inquired.

'Shut up.'

'I should've listened to Red Alert,' muttered Rodimus. 'She said you're just faking all this for show. Primus, I'm such an idiot...'

'Then turn around and go back to your perfect life,' said Cliffjumper. He paused in the center of an intersection. The Blurr shadow had disappeared. It returned, standing at a corridor's end. There, Cliffjumper spotted a ladder heading down a shoot.

They'd returned to the infamous, unfathomable underground, taking lifts and shortcuts shown to them by the Blurr shadow. The tunnels they were in now were only suited for 'bots no taller than Cliffjumper, and even had had to bend to avoid scrapping against the ceiling. These maintenance tubes apparently criss-crossed all over the deep underground. Both of the Autobots picked up faint pulses in the area. Again, the heartbeat of the core, growing louder and louder with each turn; quicker, and more resonant. Cliffjumper had the distinct feeling that the Blurr shadow was leading them back to the core. And he was dragging Rodimus right into it.

No, scratch that. If Rodimus was offlined, it was his own slagging fault. He'd told him he wanted to go alone! But did that purist listen?! He was so bent on "self-sacrifice" and trying to save the day. sometimes, the day couldn't be saved. But one 'bot – who lay dying on an examination table – would be avenged.

'I can't leave you down here by yourself,' stated Rodimus. 'Who knows what trouble you'll cause this time – aw, slag.'

Cliffjumper glanced behind him. Rodimus's fake wings were caught between the walls. Any sudden movement, and they'd probably break off. Rolling his eyes, Cliffjumper helped get him free.

'I don't want you involved,' he said.

'Guess what? I am. I have been since you took my crew hostage.

Rodimus moved sideways, putting his pace about five seconds behind Cliffjumper. The duo had reached the end of the tunnel. Clifjfumper put one servo on the ladder, which ended some thirty feet below him. The Blurr shadow joyously waved from the bottom and promptly whisked out of sight.

'And you know what?' Rodimus added. 'I'm here for Blurr, as well. Just because I only met him on one occasion, doesn't mean I want to see him killed by a Decepticon.'

'This is between me and Shockwave,' said Cliffjumper.

'How can you think about revenge at a time like this?!'

'Easily.'

Cliffjumper dropped down. The tunnels were getting narrower. Red lights bathed everything in an eerie glow. The Blurr shadow was at the far end, a circular door to his back. He faded away into the metal. There was no noise, except for a characteristic dripping. Running his hand along the walls, he found them soaking wet. He smelt his fingertips. Not water. Gasoline. Definitely flammable.

The godforsaken road of them creaked, like it wanted them to turn back.

'If you're gonna follow me, be careful down here,' cautioned Cliffjumper. 'There's fuel all over the walls.'

'...You think this place carried fuel a little while ago?' asked Rodimus.'

'You're the repair 'bot; what do you think?'

'That must be it,' said Rodimus. He gestured to the floor. A manhole was the source of the consistent dripping. 'It's either automatic or someone emptied it. In any case, I suggest we keep moving. This place could flood back up at any moment.'

'Maybe it was emptied to let us pass.'

'Woah, wait, you think this is a trap?!'

'Why do you think I'm following him?!' Cliffjumper pointed to the Blurr shadow, the latter having briefly reappeared. 'Shockwave's making us see things.'

'So...you know it's a trap,' Rodimus concluded, 'and you're walking into it on purpose?'

'Yup.'

Rodimus shook his head. 'You're impossible.'

Cliffjumper stopped at the door, reaching for the handle. A servo grabbed his wrist. Rodimus motioned for him to get behind.

'I can handle it, you know,' Cliffjumper growled.

'No, you can't. You're smart, but not invincible. I thought this design was familiar.' Rodimus peered around at the ceiling, a light of recognition on his face. 'I worked tunnels like this before I was promoted to a Prime. Sometimes they flood them during emergencies or sometimes it's part of a routine. But they usually branch off of a main chamber. If this is a trap, like you think, Shockwave might not have to be present to kill us. He could automatically seal us in this chamber and set it on fire. See where I'm getting at?'

'Yes, and I don't care.'

'Do you _have_ a death wish?!'

'No, I just don't care. Are you gonna move, or am I gonna have to beat the slag out of you?'

'Cliffjumper, think _reasonably_ –'

'Never have.'

Pushing aside Rodimus, Cliffjumper tugged open the door.

Sure enough, there was a chamber on the other side. Larger than Cliffjumper had expected. He picked out the exits – tunnels similar to this one – straight away. They were all closed, with no way to open them up from the inside. If Rodimus's theory was correct, he could be walking into his own grave.

But there was nothing here.

Cliffjumper gestured for Rodimus to be quiet, and ducked inside.

He walked through a couple of puddles. Rodimus branched out to his left, looking towards the curved ceiling. He never let his guard down, staring wide-eyed at the black figure. The Blurr shadow was standing in the center. Cliffjumper stepped onto a trap door, and immediately his vague image disappeared.

Rodimus joined him. It took their combined effort to open the door, however they were not entirely successful on keeping it quiet. Both 'bots winced as it slammed against the chamber's floor, splashing on top of a puddle of gasoline, and echoing on the smooth walls. There was a silence.

The structure groaned.

'Get in,' said Cliffjumper, 'now.'

'I'm not jumping blindly into –'

Cliffjumper shoved him. He, himself, hesitated for a split second. The groaning became more pronounced, as though the underground was suddenly relaxing.

A snap.

A tunnel burst open. Gasoline began to fill the room. He grabbed the trap door and slammed it shut, seconds before the liquid overwhelmed them.

Cliffjumper – having thrown himself in after Rodimus – held tight to a ladder that abruptly emerged from the darkness. The metal burned underneath his fingers. So did the trap door directly above his head. It vibrated wildly, the six-inch metal strainign to lock in the heat. He tried to imagine what the chamber must look like now. Or rather, what any poor 'bot trapped in it would look like after being super-heated.

'Well...it was a trap,' announced Cliffjumper.

'I told you not to go in there,' Rodimus chimed.

'What can you see.'

'Your aft. And let me tell you, it isn't the most pleasant sight in the –'

'Ha, ha. Really, what do you see? What's under us?'

'...A blue light of some sort,' mused Rodimus.

Cliffjumper started, though he wasn't precisely surprised. 'Does this blue light look like the kind transwarp energy gives off?'

'Yes, as a matter of fact. Only it's brighter than anything _I've_ ever seen...Do you know where we are?'

'Climb down. We can't go back up.'

Rodimus slid down without protest. Cliffjumper followed and nearly landed right on top of him. Sure enough, they stood on a walkway spreading out endlessly in both directions. Pipes ran down from the ceiling, and straight into a glowing bright blue ocean. The area was vaster than any organic valley that Cliffjumper had ever seen. Rodimus moved to the railign, optics wide and mouth comically hanging open.

While Rodimus tried to piece this together, Cliffjumper checked that nobody was around. But there was. He could sense their optics on them.

The abnormal pulse of the underground – something he'd failed to notice before – was stronger here than anywhere else. Cliffjumpre shuddered as it managed to touch his very spark. He could tell from the incredulous expression on Rodimus's face that he could feel this, as well.

'...Where are we?' asked Rodimus.

'It's the core,' explained Cliffjumper. 'It's a buildup of transwarp energy that powers all of Cybertron.'

'Impossible.'

Some fifty yards down the walkway, the platform turned off and ended up at the foot of the ladder. The ladder went all the way up to the ceiling, where a second walkway stretched across an area over the Transwarp field. Here was a circular, closed-off room, with tinted glass windows.

Great, all this, and he was back where he started. The same room where Shockwave was holding out.

'I mean, I said I believed in those theories, but it always seem more like a myth than anything else...Oh, Red Alert's going to _love_ this.'

'Shockwave's there,' Cliffjumper indicated the room. 'Let's go!'

'Wait, we need a plan!'

Too late. He'd taken off. In nanoclicks, he'd reached the intersection and skidded around the corner.

'Cliffjumper!' Rodimus ran after him, only catching up when he began to ascend the ladder.

'We don't have time for a plan! Shockwave's probably already seen us!'

'But _Cliffjumper_ –'

He was halfway up. Cliffjumper paused and looked down at the Prime. Rodimus had his hands on his hips and a disapproving frown on his face. 'Look, either you throw a tantrum, or let's get Shockwave!'

Cliffjumper scurried to the top of the walkway. At the far end was the only entrance to the elevated room he could see. A solid steel door, with the number "one" printed clearly on it. Underneath it was "Authorized Personnel Only." The red outline of a Decepticon was still on the other side, however what it was doing was unknown. Rodimus joined him on the walkway. Cliffjumper charged towards the door. He slammed his shoulder against it. He was thrust backwards.

'Hey, watch it, you're going to hurt yourself,' said Rodimus.

Ignoring him, Cliffjumper slammed into it a second time.

'Fine, then! Go ahead and hurt yourself. See if I care.'

A third time. Cliffjumper braced, did the footwork, and thrust his shoulder against it. The door caved inwards.

'...Show off,' Rodimus scoffed.

Cliffjumper grunted and pulled himself back to his feet.

It hadn't changed. The consoles and monitors were still on the walls. The windows still overlooked the transwarp field. While Rodimus turned to stare at these, Cliffjumper ventured further inland. There was no sign of Shockwave. Yet he could swear he heard the sparkbeat.

'Looks like the "core" was the object of their affection,' observed Rodimus, peering out at the transwarp field. '...This is tight-knit stuff, Cliffjumper. It _seems_ that they were keeping an eye on every slagging molecule down there. Funny, the transwarp field radiates warm energy – like a sun – but according to the temperature level, it's minus 150.'

'Is that supposed to be cold?' asked Cliffjumper, not particularly caring.

'Geez...you made it through the Autobot Academy, but you _still_ don't know your units of measurement,' Rodimus folded his arms. 'But apart from that, where's your Decepticon? Huh? Did you lead me down here just to make fun of me? Because if that's the case, it's not funny. You never did have a sense of humour.'

Cliffjumper checked the ceiling and all the walls. Shockwave wasn't here. But he had to be! It was the only explanation!

'Well?'

'Shut up, Rodimus, I'm trying to think.'

Rodimus sighed and turned back to the equipment.

Cliffjumper circled the entire room before Rodimus spoke, again.

'I wonder what's down there,' said Rodimus.

'What?'

'I wonder what's down in the transwarp field,' Rodimus murmured. He pointed to a monitor, displaying some scales. '_Someone's_ trying to transwarp _something_ – although what it could be, I have absolutely no idea.'

'..._What_?'

'Good grief, Cliffjumper, it isn't that hard,' Rodimus rounded on him. 'There's something down in the _core_ that they're trying to transport.'

'There's something _in_ the core?'

'Yes. And they're trying to transwarp it.'

'How's that possible?'

'How am I supposed to know?' shrugged Rodimus. 'This is all theoretically impossible, if you ask me.'

'Well, _what is it_?!'

'I don't know.'

'Figure it out, then!' Cliffjumper pointed to the computer. 'It could be important!'

'Last time I checked,_ I_ had a higher ranking than you,' scowled Rodimus.

'Why I oughta...'

That's when he spotted Shockwave. He'd appeared out of no where, the Magnus Hammer in hand. And he was right behind Rodimus.

Rodimus must've sensed something. He dived out of the way, narrowly avoiding the swing of the Hammer. Shockwave recomposed himself, taking his place in front of the exit. He stepped closer.

Cliffjumper sprung forwards. Shockwave did a horizontal strike.

The Autobot dodged it, ducked low, and blindly swung his fist. He was thrust backwards into Rodimus. Already back up,he struggled against Rodimus's grasp.

'LEMME AT 'EM!'

'For Primus's sake, he's got the Magnus Hammer!' Rodimus shouted. 'Quit thrashing!'

'I must admit, Cliffjumper, you are beginning to become _very_ annoying,' drawled Shockwave. 'First you retrieved Blurr. Then you disposed of Scorponok – my tool. Now you are further interfering with my duties as a Decepticon. This will no longer suffice.'

'HA!' exclaimed Cliffjumper. 'What are you up to, this time?! Lookin' for more 'bots to kill?!'

'Far from it.'

Shockwave raised his Hammer. It sparked.

'Hey! Watch where you aim that!' yelled Rodimus. 'Only the Magnus has full power over the Magnus Hammer!'

A pause. Shockwave lowered his weapon. 'Evidently, I underestimated your intelligence, Rodimus Prime. You may prove to be useful, after all.' Shockwave lifted up and closed the fallen doorway. He leaned it against the hole in the wall. Not that they could reach it anyways. He was right in the way. 'I am about to perform an experiment. While I do not doubt my ability to control transwarp energy, your insights may –'

'No,' said Rodimus.

'You would be rewarded. You could leave Iacon. This is your chance to be something other than the mere head of a repair crew.'

Rodimus slowly lowered his bow. 'How did you know about all that?'

Cliffjumper looked around. He had to kill Shockwave while he was distracted. But he needed a better angle from which to strike at the grand Decepticon. There was none. Shockwave - and the Magnus Hammer – took up the better part of the room. The two Autobots were backed against a computer console, with the window overhead, and a sheer two hundred foot drop.

'Very well,' said Shockwave. 'If you will not help me, than I have no other choice.'

Cliffjumper sling shotted forwards. Shockwave didn't move fast enough. He slammed his whole body to the Decepticon, kicking at every bit of him to drive him towards the window.

Two streaks of golden light shattered the glass. Then at Shockwave's feet. Cliffjumper attempted to jump out of the way. Something had him by the ankle. He was pulled backwards, hovering treacherously over the sea of transwarp energy.

It expanded. No, it wasn't expanding. He was falling towards it. Shockwave had his foot in his grasp. Rodimus was there too, though he didn't recall how he came to join them.

They were swallowed by the field. Ripples shot out over the smooth surface. Rodimus, Cliffjumper, and Shockwave were gone.


	15. The Core

**Chapter Fifteen  
****The Core**

For a split second – only for a split second – Cliffjumper didn't even realize that he'd breeched the outer layer of the transwarp field. He looked down to find a floor of metal plates far below him, trapped in a haze like he was in the middle of a dream. He'd been falling head first. But he moved very gently; again, like he was in a dream. He twisted his entire body around so that his feet were first, and landed on the metal. There was no noise as iron touched iron.

It was bitterly cold.

'Hey, Rodimus, what'dya think...' he stopped mid-sentence, taking a few steps and looking around. Rodimus was no where in sight. 'Rodimus?'

No response.

Well, that idiot had done it this time. He was trapped down here. Cliffjumper rotated to get his bearings. Some fifty feet away, a tall pillar rose out of the ground. Somewhere far beyond that was a similar structure. Three more dotted the landscape. These were just the ones in few – for the constant haze made it impossible to get a fix on any more. Cliffjumper recalled the pipes running down from the ceiling, into the transwarp field. So that would place him somewhere on the inside, if that made any sense. Weren't transwarp fields supposed to teleport you somewhere else, whether coordinates were set or not?

A shadow descended over him.

Cliffjumper dived out of the way.

Shockwave hit the ground with the blunt force of an earthquake. To his horror, Cliffjumper saw that he still had the Hammer in hand.

In the other was Rodimus.

Shockwave threw Rodimus to the side. Cliffjumper, fists swinging, attacked.

The Magnus Hammer rose over his head.

'WAIT!' cried Rodimus. 'You can't use that in here! The - the Hammer, th – the lightning, it could spark an explosion!'

Shockwave used the blunt end of the Hammer to knock Cliffjumper to the side. He felt every muscle scream in protest. His body slammed against a column. Just like that, he hit the ground, only he was up in mere seconds.

The Decepticon grasped Cliffjumper around the neck. He turned, holding him up to Rodimus, now staggering onto his feet.

'I don't have time to deal with you Autobots,' said Shockwave. 'If you are wise, you will stand down.'

There was a loud click, like a door unlocking. The column right behind them began to turn. Shockwave retreated to a safer distance. It did a 360 spin. Then 90 degrees clockwise. The funnel began to lift out of the ground, retreating back through the transwarp field's barrier rising high above their heads. This pillar wasn't the only one. Cliffjumper glimpsed all within his line of vision retracting from the core.

Cliffjumper forced himself to look upwards. The bottom of the pillars were hollow, with exposed wires hanging loosely underneath them. Then they were gone, clearing the transwarp barrier and leaving nothing but ripples and the smell of oil.

'What did you _do_?!' roared Rodimus.

'Simple, Autobot,' said Shockwave. 'I am retrieving what the ancestors of the Decepticons left for us to find.'

'Dare I ask what it is?' choked Cliffjumper.

'Do you _think_ I would tell you?' Shockwave snapped. He went to the edge of the shaft, dangling Cliffjumper high above the pit. Quieter: 'It's a shame, Cliffjumper. You would have made an excellent Decepticon.'

Cliffjumper abruptly stopped resisting. He stared into Shockwave's single red eye, all fear forgotten. Hatred replaced fear. 'Don't. Ever. Say that.'

'Merely an observation.'

Shockwave jolted. He dropped Cliffjumper. The Autobot clung to the edge of the shaft, while Shockwave staggered, teetering on the edge.

From behind him, Rodimus jumped and kicked. Shockwave – Magnus Hammer and all – flew past Cliffjumper. The Autobot looked back to stare, but he couldn't see Shockwave. There was a blue glow shining from the Pits, its source unknown. It swallowed his enemy. Rodimus grabbed his servos and pulled him up to safety.

Wind blew silently around the two Autobots for a second.

A column of raging transwarp energy plunged from the sky to the shaft. Cliffjumper held up his hand to protect his eyes from the blue-white light, the matter overlapping itself like a carefully sculpted waterfall.

Carefully, he and Rodimus got to their feet.

He punched him in the arm. 'Slaggit! I wanted to kill Shockwave!'

'Hey, _I_ saved your life!' shouted Rodimus. 'And I think we got more things to worry about than how _you_ didn't get to kill Shockwave!'

'Well that's just great! _Just_ great! Now how do you think we're gonna get out of here?!'

Rodimus's face fell. Similar columns of transwarp matter was being thrust into the core. Shockwave's intention? Unknown. Rodimus took a good look around him, then back at Cliffjumper.

'...I don't know if we can,' he admitted.


	16. Return Policy

**Chapter Sixteen  
****Return Policy**

The core was tearing itself apart.

Cliffjumper and Rodimus – in their altmodes – sped across its unstable surface, narrowly diving out of the way before glowing blue cracks swallowed the surface they'd been on moments before. The metal caved in on itself, the noise lost in the sheer roar of the apocalypse. The grinding earthquake rendered him incapable of see street. Up above, the transwarp field serving as the sky vibrated. Liquid columns were dragged towards its heart.

Just as soon as they thought they were safe, more cracks appeared underneath them. They hurried out of the way before they uprooted, curved upwards, and then were sucked underneath. Cliffjumper paused to peer back into the underground. He couldn't. It was too bright. Besides, he didn't want to see it. He didn't need to.

He looked back up. Rodimus was gone.

'RODIMUS?!' Cliffjumper shouted. The ground seemed to make certain that he was not heard.

He walked in a circle.

'ROD –'

'I'm over here, you idiot!'

Rodimus had moved closer to a column, shielding his optics in the process. Cliffjumper returned to robot mode and sprinted over to join him, loosing his balance several times.

'How do we get outta here?!' he screamed.

'I'm trying to figure that out!' Rodimus said. '...Cliffjumper, whatever Shockwave wants to transport, we have to stop it, but I don't see _how_!'

'What do you think it is?'

'He said it was a weapon.'

There was an explosion. Both of them were floored. Nearby, another section of the core gave away. Rodimus stared at the spot where it disappeared. Soon, there would be nothing left to stand on, and the two Autobots would plummet into the inferno beneath their feet.

'Okay...okay...okay,' Rodimus grabbed his head. 'C'mon, _think_!'

'Think faster!' Cliffjumper yelled.

'I can't do that when you're shouting at me!'

'I WONDER WHY I'M DOING THAT!'

'QUIET!' Rodimus slammed a fist on the ground. He glanced at the sky. Then at the nearby column. 'Okay, I have one, but you won't like it. I think that if we toss ourselves into one of those pillars...that energy might transport us away from here. I don't know where, just somewhere else. It might be our only chance to get out of this alive!'

Cliffjumper scrutinized the transwarp column. It was a current. No doubt it would act in the same way. Either it'd crush their bodies, shove them to the middle of this mess, or transport them.

He rounded on Rodimus. 'Try again.'

'I don't have any other ideas!' cried Rodimus.

Cliffjumper groaned. 'Fine. Let's go!'

The barely went two feet before the ground exploded.

There was a great jolt that sent the two of them flying. Metal grazed past his face. Cliffjumper, clinging to the ground, watched ice emerge from an unknown source, building up all over him. A body flew past. He reached out and grabbed Rodimus before he could get too far.

Meanwhile, behind him, the beating of a spark bellowed.

Slowly, Cliffjumper and Rodimus turned. There was a being, covered in broken wires and glowing bright blue. But through the blue, a pair of Decepticon red eyes glinted maliciously.

Their mouths fell open.

'What the slag is that?!' Rodimus asked.

'No time! Let's go!'

The being immediately set his eyes on them. Cliffjumper, moving stiffly because of the ice, dragged Rodimus to his feet. He positioned himself between the being and Rodimus. Frozen – both literally and figuratively – he glanced towards the column of transwarp energy; mere yards away.

Two streaks of light went past him. One of Rodimus's arrows missed the being's head. The other hit an optic. IT arched backwards. Cliffjumper grabbed Rodimus by the forearm and ran for it. A clawed hand hit the ground right in front of them. What he saw of it was sharp fingers, enough to tear through Autobot armour. They hurtled over it and went onwards.

The apparent Decepticon made one last attempt to grab them.

He couldn't escape it. Cliffjumper shoved Rodimus on ahead. This was going to hurt.

The claw came down.

A blur streaked straight through it. Not destroying the claw, merely forcing the Decepticon to miss him by inches. Cliffjumper made direct eye contact with an Autobot, semi-transparent black, except for his shining blue eyes.

The shadow smiled.

'BLURR!' Cliffjumper screamed.

The shadow went past. Cliffjumper attempted to grab it, only to trip over his own feet and fall to the ground. The ghost had gone straight through the metal.

'NO!' he shouted.

Rodimus grabbed him. The ground began to tremble in the wake of an underground explosion. At the same time, Rodimus and Cliffjumpre leapt into the column of transwarp energy.

Random flashes of light. Purple, blue, and orange zipped by him, as did the distorted voices. Pressure poured down on him like a relentless waterfall. Cliffjumper tumbled forwards, head over heels, and landed – hard – on a sturdy surface.

He felt dizzy for a moment, but then became aware of many optics on him. He forced himself to stand.

They were standing in a courtyard. Not just any courtyard. The one right outside the Metroplex. He could see his office from here.

Several nearby Autobots – pedestrians, apparently – gaped at them. Whispers rose into the air.

'What the slag was that?'

He glanced over his shoulder. Rodimus, too, was getting up, and shaking badly.

'Wait, don't move!' snapped Cliffjumper.

Everything seemed to stop at that moment. All the voices died away. Perhaps they sensed what was coming.

The ground jerked. Cliffjumper, Rodimus, and the Autobots around them collapsed. everything shook madly, a vile animal trying to throw them off. Cliffjumpr thought he felt something cold pass him by. He instinctively brushed it away. It didn't leave.

Cliffjumper wheeled around. In that second, he thought he saw something. Something...that wasn't an Autobot. Two pairs of red eyes. A transwarp field that swallowed it. It reached for the heavens and disappeared.

Time stopped. The Autobots remained still, waiting for it to continue. The land looked like a great hand had reached down from the sky and flattened the courtyard, All that remained were the Autobots, getting up and looking around, perplexed.

And like that, he was surrounding. The Autotroopers their guns raised, blocking all escape routes for Cliffjumper and Rodimus.

'You are under arrested,' they announced.

Cliffjumper reluctantly raised his hands. Rodimus did the same, grinning sheepishly towards him.

'You and your stupid ideas,' he growled.


	17. Red and Blue

****

Chapter Seventeen  
Red and Blue

_Nations, like stars, are entitled to eclipse. All is well, provided the light returns and the eclipse does not become endless night. Dawn and resurrection are synonymous. The reappearance of the light is the same as the survival of the soul._

_**~ Victor Hugo**_

It was amazing how at ease Cybertron Command seemed. The hallway was very nearly deserted. All the 'bots they encountered rushed by without glancing at their party, else distracted with stressed expressions. Cliffjumper walked in sync with Rodimus – beside him – and the Jettwins following in their wake. They walked with purpose. Walked knowing precisely where they were going.

At the end of this hall awaited their destination. Cliffjumper wanted to burst in there and tell Ultra Magnus what exactly he thought of how he'd been treated. Maybe he'd file an official complaint.

However, he doubted he'd be able to do that without getting arrested. Again.

'I hope you know what you're doing,' whispered Rodimus.

'Trust me. Just follow my lead, and everything'll be fine.'

'Considering what's happened in the last little while, I doubt that...I can't help but feel a little nervous, you know. I mean, I've seen Ultra Magnus before, but...but he's never spoken to me and it was always from a distance. What if I make an idiot out of myself?'

'Look, it isn't that big a deal once you get over his size,' said Cliffjumper.

'He is being right,' agreed Jetfire.

'Yes, my brother and I use to feel very...small,' Jetstorm indicated with his fingers.

'But we get over it,' continued Jetfire.

'We just think of Ultra Magnus as any other 'bot,' said Jetstorm. 'He is Magnus, but he is also one of us. Think of him as big Autobot with big Hammer. Well, minus Hammer right now.'

They stopped in front of the automatic doorway. Two Autotroopers stood on either side of it. "Authorized Personnel Only" was branded in intimidating dark letters across it. Cliffjumper flexed his hands, as Rodimus handed his bow over to a trooper.

'I better get that back in mint condition,' Rodimus added, as the Jettwins herded them inside.

Cliffjumper brushed by a hulking, blue figure on his way in. He only saw the back of Sentinel, and expected that he'd determinedly avoided his gaze. He wanted to call him back. But knew that doing that would probably result in one major lecture.

And beyond him was Wheeljack, standing beside a med table. Wires were still attached to Ultra Magnus – but he was quite alert. His side was still ripped apart, a small portion of it partially restored. His arm lay to the side. Perceptor was across from them, fiddling around with computers. Cliffjumper had to peer around Wheeljack to spot the final 'bot in the room. Red Alert. To his great surprise she was smiling and speaking to Ultra Magnus. She saluted him. And walked towards them. She paused when she spotted Cliffjumper. Her grin melted away into a sneer.

'Look who decided to show his sorry face,' she barked. 'Do you know how much trouble I got in because of you?!'

'I didn't want your help to begin with,' Cliffjumper said.

'Red Alert.'

She wheeled around, her stance offensive and apparently ready for an argument. But she gasped when she came face-to-face with Rodimus.

'Oh!' she breathed. 'Rodimus, I was wondering what happened to you! The others and I were beginning to get worried. All they told us was that you got out from the underground.'

'I was with him,' Rodimus gestured to Cliffjumper. 'We'll talk later, okay?'

'Sure. And Cliffjumper.' She came within two inches of his face. 'If Rodimus gets fired because of you, I will hunt you down myself.'

He growled.

Red Alert made to leave. Rodimus grabbed her arm.

'Hey, uh, about what happened earlier...You know, when I decided we were going after him instead of –'

'This isn't a good place, Rodimus,' whispered Red Alert. 'Later.'

Rodimus forlornly looked after her. She left in the same manner of Sentinel Prime. They were now free to turn their attention towards the Magnus.

Or not. Wheeljack was backing away from the table. Only now could Cliffjumper fully take in the wires connected to Ultra Magnus's body, and the vital signs that Perceptor was examining. Wheeljack looked...worried. He took the two Autobots by the shoulders and turned them away from the Magnus's bedside.

'...He's dying,' he whispered. 'He might live for a while, but...I...I don't think he'll make it.'

That was all it took.

Cliffjumper hesitated; tried not to look too surprised or concerned as they turned their attention back to the Magnus.

Their high commander focused on Cliffjumper and Rodimus. Despite his previous experiences, Cliffjumper had to admit: his beady little optics were enough reason to hightail on out of here. It was surprising that he looked so alert, even more surprising to hear an expert say that he wasn't going to make it. He got the signal and the duo stepped forwards.

Cliffjumper saluted him. 'Sir.'

'There's no need,' said Ultra Magnus. 'I believe we've met a few times before.'

'Never directly. Uh, sir.'

Ultra Magnus was expressionless. In passing, it reminded him of a certain murderous Decepticon. His determinedly kept his face straight at the thought.

'Your name is Rodimus Prime, correct?' asked the Magnus.

'Yes, sir,' nodded Rodimus. 'I lead a repair crew on Iacon.'

'Hm. I understand you participated in Cliffjumper's trial.'

'I did.'

Ultra Magnus shifted ever so slightly. It was painful. Cliffjumper could tell by a change of expression that died away almost at once. 'Now, Sentinel Prime and Jazz have told me everything that has happened while I was on spark support, including your reports. Starting with the fiasco you caused during your escape.'

Cliffjumper looked at the floor, hands behind his back.

'You took unnecessary risks for personal reasons. All Autobots working in Cybertron Command must build up a certain wall between personal feelings and protocol. Apparently yours weren't as strong as I'd first thought.'

'Yes, sir.'

'You also dragged other Autobots into this mess with you,' continued Ultra Magnus. 'Wheeljack and Perceptor, for example...'

Both of the mentioned Autobots paused in their work.

'...Rodimus Prime's crew...'

'Uh, sir,' Rodimus interrupted. 'I got my crew involved willingly. I ordered the...them to, so – so I'm to blame –'

Ultra Magnus weakly raised his good hand. Rodimus stopped.

'You even got a well-respected officer, Mirage, arrested. Luckily his case as been sorted out. But your actions of the last stellar cycle will affect Cybertron Command operations for years to come. Not in a positive way, mind. Your imprudent and selfish behaviour has caused disruptions in the system. It is vital that the government and society, itself, remain stable in times of warfare.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Were you actually considering the consequences of your actions when this began? Did you even think ahead?'

His clenched his fists. 'Sir,' Cliffjumper looked at the Magnus's face. 'Blurr was a worthy officer of the Elite Guard and Cybertron Intelligence. He gathered valuable information that proved and will prove to be resourceful in the ongoing conflict with the Deceptions. I acted completely of my own accord, however I also acted in the interest of Cybertron Command. I don't believe in leaving our 'bots behind. Even if everyone else has given up, I refuse to let the Decepticons think they have won by killing one of our own. Sir.'

There was a brief silence. Wheeljack, the Jettwins, and Rodimus all looked at him with awe and fear. Awe because he'd dared to speak like this to their Magnus. Fear of what the Magnus's reaction would be. As usual, Ultra Magnus kept his face vacant of all emotion.

'...I'm impressed by your loyalty,' said Ultra Magnus. 'Although your methods were a little less than orthodox, you did ultimately succeed. You sacrificed everything you'd achieved by going to find him. That makes you a true Autobot. It is a pity that Blurr is in an irreversible coma, from which it is unlikely that he will ever awaken from.'

Cliffjumper's gaze returned to the floor. His spark beat madly against his chest. He felt the Magnus's eyes on him, a penetrating stare that made him want to duck for cover. There was a harrowing amount time before he continued.

'The Council has agreed that I should decide your fates,' Ultra Magnus resumed. 'Rodimus Prime, I have heard of your deeds and impressive fighting skills. You agreed to hide Cliffjumper from the government, yes, but you also display great loyalty towards your fellow Autobots. Would you consider joining the Elite Guard?'

It was as though Rodimus had been expecting this. He sighed.

'I've already been asked twice before, sir,' said Rodimus. 'I...I don't believe I will, sir. For personal reasons. My team means too much to me for me to just leave them on Iacon.'

Ultra Magnus frowned. 'I understand. Then know that there will always be a place open for you, in the case that you change your mind.'

Rodimus nodded rather stiffly and backed away from the table. All of a sudden, Cliffjumper felt like somebody had just pushed him into the spotlight. (Though he'd already been there in the first place.)

'Cliffjumper, all charges against you have been dropped, except one,' Ultra Magnus said. 'That is, possession of illegal weaponry. Therefore, you're banned from using weapons, of any sort, for the next fifty solar cycles, and will also do community service on a regular basis until further notice.'

He tried not to wince at the phrase "community service," with little success.

'But there is also the question of whether or not you will remain in the employ of Cybertron Command. I believe that firing you would be more of a mistake than sending you to the stockades. To be blunt, Cliffjumper...not many Autobots will agree with me. To the eyes of many, you are a traitor. That said, you will be given your old job back, but not be eligible for becoming the Head of Cybertron Intelligence for a very long time. And finally your movements will be tracked, meaning that you can't leave Cybertron without authorization. Understood?'

'Yes, sir,' Cliffjumper answered.

'Good. You will report to the Head of Cybertron Intelligence first thing tomorrow. And keep in mind that if you're found to be breaking any laws, the consequences will be quite severe.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Dismissed.'

Cliffjumper breathed for what felt like the first time since entering the room. He turned on his heel, only for another thought to pop up.

'Uh, sir,' Cliffjumper said, turning back towards Ultra Magnus. 'About the...the Decepticon that was in the core.'

'That is none of your concern at the moment. You don't have the right clearance.'

'With all due respect, sir,' Cliffjumper said through clenched teeth. 'I was the one that let him get away.'

'Nobody has found any evidence that he –'

'Sir, he's still out there.'

'And what exactly makes you believe that?'

'Because I saw him Transwarp to another location. I'm not the only one. I don't know where, but I'm telling you: that Decepticon is still alive and is massing with Megatron and the other Decepticons. They're up to something. Don't you think that you should send somebody out to look for him, sir?'

'The scientists still do not have any evidence that he existed in the first place.'

'Correct,' Perceptor approached them. 'It is the Ministry of Science's belief that your story is improbable. It is theoretically impossible for an Autobot or Decepticon to be exposed by Transwarp energy and not be Transwarped. We only have yours and Rodimus Prime's eyewitness account of this Decepticon.'

'Do not tell me what to believe in, Cliffjumper,' said Ultra Magnus. 'And do not tell me what I should be sending soldiers of the Elite Guard to do. Dismissed.'

'What about Shockwave?! He could've survived –'

'We're taking care of it. Dismissed'

Cliffjumper's first reaction was to retaliate. But something held him back. He intended to head out.

'One...last thing,' Ultra Magnus spoke. 'Jazz Ttanswarped to Earth sometime ago. I would appreciate it if you tried to contact the planet to see what he is doing.'

For that second, Cliffjumper felt something brew inside of him. A concoction of something boiling hot, something that made him want to leap forwards and kill the Magnus. He stood there, fists shaking in anger. Then he nodded, saluted him, and followed Rodimus out of the med bay.

They headed back where they'd just come, Rodimus retrieving his bow from the trooper on the way. He admired it, grinning.

'That went well,' decided Rodimus.

'You don't have to do community service,' fumed Cliffjumper.

'You should be thankful you got off without any other punishment!' laughed Rodimus. 'Hey, where you going?'

Cliffjumper was just heading down another hallway; different from where Rodimus intended to go. The lift symbolically waited at the other end.

'I'm going to see what happened to my friend, Mirage,' said Cliffjumper. 'Where you going?'

'Well, I guess I'm going to find Red Alert, then we'll head back to Iacon,' shrugged Rodimus. 'We might have to wait a while, though. Knowing Red Alert, she'll want to stay and visit. She's always had the most friends on Cybertron.'

'So...you've been asked to go into the Elite Guard before,' Cliffjumper remembered Ultra Magnus's offer. 'Why'd you turn it down?'

'Right now, I think the Elite Guard is doing fine wihtout me,' said Rodimus. 'I'd rather be fixing a few Space Bridges. But, who knows? Maybe one day.'

'Look me up if you accept the offer,' Cliffjumper said. 'I'll give you a few tips on passing the written portion of the test.'

Rodimus smirked. 'Cheater.'

'How do you think Sentinel got in?'

He snickered. 'Well, there's a bit of gossip for Red Alert. Guess I'll go now. Alert will be looking for me.'

'Yeah.'

They just stood there for a nanoclick, staring at each other. Finally, Cliffjumper approached him and shook his head.

'Good working with you, Rodimus,' said Cliffjumper.

'Same,' Rodimus nodded. '...This doesn't change anything, does it?'

'Not one slagging thing.'

With that, they parted. Cliffjumper didn't move until Rodimus had disappeared into the lift, giving him one last bemused look. He went in the opposite direction.

Well, he was a perfectionist. But maybe that wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

At first glance, the message didn't seem that important. It was in text. Uncommon, but occasionally used over such long distances. Earth was pretty far off. Cliffjumper recalled contacting them sometime before he was arrested; talking to the crew commander and feeling overjoyed that they'd captured some high-ranking Decepticons. That night, he'd toasted to the Autobot victory. And now there was a letter, here. Waiting for him on his first day back.

He reread it a final time.

* * *

_To Cybertron Command:_

_Battle between Autobots and Decepticons on Earth. Megatron captured._

_Also detained: Decepticon Lugnut. Decepticon Shockwave._

_Causalities: Decepticon Starscream. Autobot Prowl._

_Autobot Prowl sacrificed his spark in the line of duty. It is thanks to his heroic acts that the crew on Earth has captured the Decepticon leader._

_Omega Supreme has been reactivated. Returning to Cybertron. Will arrive within the week._

_End message._

* * *

'SLAGGIT!' Cliffjumper shouted. He slammed his desk and kicked over the nearest box.

However there was no one around to ask what was troubling him. The door leading into the Head of Intel's office was wide open. Its walls were blank, its desk cleared out. Some random objects were knocked over as though someone has left in a hurry. Headquarters, itself, was pretty quiet. As quiet as the day Cliffjumper had left it. His chair was the same. The view was the same. His computer was the same. Heck, his oil tasted the same – steaming liquid that tamed his tense nature. You'd never think that it was this morning that he checked in as if nothing had happened, having made sure to come early to avoid stares from pedestrians. Too many stares, that is.

Sulking, he sank back in his seat, staring at his personal computer with pure vindictiveness. The entrance slid open and – whistling – a familiar Autobot strutted in. Mirage looked around, found Cliffjumper, and that annoying grin of his only grew wider.

He stared at him.

'When'd you get out?' asked Cliffjumper, despite himself. 'They told me the other day you weren't going to be released until day after tomorrow.'

'Just got out now!' Mirage beamed. 'I have money, Cliffjumper, I can bail myself out. Aren't you happy to see me?'

Cliffjumper grumbled.

'"Nice to see you, Mirage!"' Mirage did a little twirl. '"Thanks for covering my tail when I escaped!" Boy, Cliffjumper, you're mighty appreciative of those who save your exhaust port.'

He rolled his eyes.

'Primus,' Mirage sat on the desk. 'What's stuck in your fan belt?'

'...Megatron has been captured.'

'What?!' exclaimed Mirage. 'Has he really?! This is great news!'

'Lugnut and Shockwave were captured, too...Looks like Shockwave was transwarped to safety, after all.'

'Shockwave? Then what's your problem?!' He stood on his desk and did a quick jig. 'Sure he's still alive, but still, you should be dancing around and offering me a can of oil so we can celebrate! I have some very high class stuff back at my place. Cost me a fortune, but I've been waiting to open it until this day...'

Cliffjumper continued to sulk.

'Oh, I get it!' Mirage began to laugh and jumped onto the floor. 'I get it, now! You're mad because you weren't the one to capture him! Oh, Primus! Even I didn't think you were this self-absorbed!'

Mirage peered over his shoulder, quickly reading the letter displayed.

'You don't understand!' Cliffjumper lamented. 'I mean, Shockwave was supposed t'be my Decepticon! I was the one who was supposed to beat the slag out of him! And now this repair crew that's stationed on Earth captured him! Ugh! This is total injustice, if you ask me.'

'An Autobot died trying to bring him in,' said Mirage, unexpectedly becoming serious. 'You should be glad Shockwave was caught at all. I mean, he's a pretty smart 'Con...How look here, Cliffjumper, I know you wanted to avenge Blurr's...condition and all, but you don't have to do everyone on your own. So, let's say we gather at the Oil House tonight and have a few drinks. Once this gets out, this'll be big news! Everyone's gonna be so excited!'

'Yeah, well,' Cliffjumper frowned. 'Just because Megatron's been captured, doesn't mean that the war with the Decepticons is over.'

'I know, but it's a pretty big step!' said Mirage. 'By the way, the twins told me you met with Ultra Magnus. Great he's back in working condition, eh? Well, sort of...Anyways, what's the verdict? I know you got your job back, but that can't be all.'

'Banned from using weapons, they're tracing my movements, and...' Cliffjumper grimaced. '...Community service.'

Mirage burst out laughing. He spent a good cycle using the wall for support, clutching at his torso. It was only after he let all of his hot air out that he managed to stand upright and clear his throat.

'That I can't wait to see,' said Mirage.

Cliffjumper punched him in the arm. Mirage gently rubbed the spot he'd hit.

'Good grief, banned from weapons, indeed, but you still pack a nasty punch...So, you really don't have any weapons?'

He sighed. 'Yeah. I don't want anything to do with Decepticons, anyways.'

'Uh, pardon me, but didn't you buy a –'

'Do we have to reminisce?'

'Amazing...you're totally defenseless if you get into a fight...which can't be too far in the future. Ah, well. I suppose this will be good for you.'

'After what I've been through, I don't want to see another gun, stinger, or bazooka,' Cliffjumper replied. '...Well...maybe for two megacycles. But anyways, I can't do anything about it. I always preferred my fists, anyways.'

Mirage grinned. 'You're one weird Autobot. But in a good way.' He looked around. 'Hey, it's kinda quiet in here. Where's Stance? He's still Head of Intel, isn't he?'

'He left a note saying he resigned the moment he heard I was coming back,' said Cliffjumper. 'I know I'm not complaining. I'm running the place until Cybertron Command can find a replacement. And it won't be me.'

'Chin up, Cliffjumper,' Mirage encouraged. 'You should be grateful...Well, I better get back to work. They're giving me my new assignment today. But maybe I can bribe my way out of it...one day out of the joint, and you'd think they'd let me take the megacycle off. Maybe go to my villa or _something_...'

Mirage paused in the door. Cliffjumper leaned back on his chair, placed his feet on the desk, and took another swig of his oil.

'Hey, whatever happens, I got your back,' said Mirage. 'Just do your own thing and don't listen to other 'bots, 'kay?'

'Yeah, sure,' Cliffjumper mumbled, vaguely waving in his direction. 'Talk to you tonight.'

With that, Mirage left, leaving behind him a sense of relaxation. It was an unfamiliar sensation that made Cliffjumper anxious. A Decepticon could be right around the corner, prepared to kill him. Maybe even a fellow Autobot. He hadn't encountered many 'bots since his return, but he was highly aware of their feelings. Thankfully, at the ol' Oil House, they didn't care if you were Autobot, Decepticon, neutral, or slagging traitor. He'd drown his sorrows tonight in the company of good friends.

His feet still on the desk, he mentally made his plan for the evenings. That's when the phone rang. Primus, he'd forgotten how much he missed just sitting here, twiddling his thumbs. Anticipating action. Well, he was pretty sure that this leisure would die down in a few days and he could get back to his old, tense self.

Cliffjumper looked around. Good to be home.

He answered the phone. 'Cybertron Intelligence. Cliffjumper speaking.'

* * *

Darkness.

Blissful – and nightmarish – darkness.

The private room wasn't the scrap heap, but close enough. Cliffjumper stood just inside, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. (Totally against his nature. But hey, it could happen to the best of 'bots.) Tubes and wires were plugged into Blurr's chest, small bleeps in synchronization with his spark beat. He looked just as bad as he had a few megacycles ago. Maybe worse. Cliffjumper found himself afraid to approach. Afraid that if he did so, Blurr would suddenly wake up and blame him for all he went through...Primus, imagine how he must've felt...

He checked his internal clock. He knew that if he didn't get on with it, he'd be late for his meeting with Mirage at the Oil House. Cliffjumper came forwards, as close as he could without touching any of the equipment. The air was moist and smelt of oil. He took a quick look around to make sure that he was alone.

'...Blurr?' he said, his voice hoarse. 'Look, I don't know if you can hear me or anything. I never believed in that slag that a 'bot in a coma could hear. But I know that once you wake up we won't talk so I figured this is the best way.'

He spent another cycle standing there.

'You know how sometimes friends drift apart?' asked Cliffjumper. 'I don't know what most 'bot think, but...even though we stopped talking to each other, I could never stop caring about what happened to you. I never could. I told myself that I should move on from the past, and be stronger than everyone else. They're always saying in Cybertron Command that you have to separate your personal feelings from your duties. I thought I did that. But...But Ultra Magnus...' He swallowed. 'H – He was right. I didn't, because I gave it all up in a split second just to save you. And you didn't deserve to die. You did...didn't –' Words becoming caught in this throat, Cliffjumper struggled to summon the energy to continue. For Blurr. He resumed, his voice becoming stronger. 'You didn't deserve to die at the hands of a Decepticon coward! When you do wake up and hear what happened, I want you to watch yourself.'

He looked around. They were still alone, thank goodness. Cliffjumper leaned a bit closer.

'Blurr, you were my first friend. I'll never forget what you did, even if you didn't do it on purpose. I hope you never forgot about me. You listen to me, Blurr. When you wake up and get back on your feet, you might not remember me or any of this. But you'll still go back out in the field. I know what's what you'd do. If something happens and you get...get captured by Decepticons, or whatever, I'll come help you. I swear it on my spark...But try not to, for Primus's sake, or I'll get arrested, again.'

Cliffjumper lightly touched Blurr's wrist. After spending a long time just staring at him, he backed away, and headed for the door. Halfway there, he paused. He laughed at an afterthought.

'Hey, don't run too fast,' he added, glancing at Blurr. 'Knowing you, you were probably crushed in the first place because you went too fast.'

Cliffjumper exited. The light behind him cast his shadow on the med bay's floor, Blurr's body in the midst of a tangled mess. An ironic allusion to what Cliffjumper and other 'bots had gone through to help him. Managing a small smile, he left. The door slid shut.

Silence. But, like all silence, it was broken. The lines graphing Blurr's brainwaves suddenly peeked.

Blurr opened his optics. Only they did not glow the peaceful Autobot blue.

They were Decepticon red.

**The End**

* * *

**A/N:** _Finally_.

I'd like to extend a thanks to all my readers and reviewers who enjoyed this story - for some reason or another. Frankly, I'm surprised people enjoyed it, considering the state it was in before. Hopefully this rewrite clarified a few facts. I think it's much better than it was, though I still think it could use some work. Meh. I'll pay attention to the details, later. I plan to do a semi-sequel and I have a midquel in progress.

Like I said, it needed to be done, and I am pleased with the results.

Special acknowledgements go to Consuelo Hidgon, for the expert and honest advice, and TyLeeChan, for being a flamboyant, very entertaining reviewer and supporter of this story.

That said, I bid you all farewell.


End file.
